


Away With the Fae

by wittyy_name



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Faestuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 75,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittyy_name/pseuds/wittyy_name
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born as a heir to the Prospitan faerie court, John was sent away to grow up as a changeling when he was just a babe. He has long since woken up, and with the help of his sister, has fully embraced his fae heritage. Jade says he has some big destiny ahead of him, but he's not quite ready for that kind of responsibility. He's not even sure he wants it. Destiny is a big word, and he's just a wind sprite.</p><p>Dave was born with the genetic curse of second sight. Able to see the world of faeries, he must hide this gift or risk their wrath. He's lived with this danger for his entire life. After a tragic incident back in Texas, he is finally getting settled in this new town. Rose says he has some big part to play in the future of the local faeries, but he wants nothing to do with that. He just wants to live a normal life without any of this bullshit.</p><p>This is the story about those destinies, and how the two intertwine.</p><p>Meanwhile, Dirk has his own part to play. After being blinded the previous year, he was certain he could stay away from the fae forever. That is, until Jake English walked into his life. Now he's not so sure he wants to stay away. But, strangely, Jake doesn't seem to know about his faerie blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fate

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've been playing with for a while, cause I love faerie stories and you don't see many of them. The fae are based on old northern European tales and stories I've read, mixed with my own ideas.
> 
> Feel free to check out my other stories and visit me on my tumblr for updates and what not: http://wittyy-name.tumblr.com/

Your name is Dave Strider, and you were in desperate need of some caffeine. 

"Rose, I don't know how to coffee."

"That seems to be a grave problem, seeing as your job responsibilities include making coffee." 

"If you don't stop reading your wizard smut and get over here right now, I'm going to start hitting things until liquid comes out. I don't even care what kind of liquid. What if it's coffee blood? Or what about oil, Rose? Or grease? What if it catches on fire? I'm going to start a fire back here, Rose. Serious fire hazard with all these books. This place is a fire's wet dream. Keep it up all night with dreams of these sexy books. Wakin' up feeling all gross and ashamed. My obituary is going to say that I died in a fire's flaming orgasm."

You were standing behind the counter, empty coffee mug in hand, trying your best to look forlorn, abandoned, and confused. It must have worked because Rose rolled her eyes, closed her book, delicately set it down on the table, and stood. 

"Fine, but I would like to remind you that I showed you how 'to coffee' an hour ago."

"That was an hour ago. A lot has changed since then." 

She raised one delicate, blonde eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Such as my ability to identify the coffee machine. Which one of these mechanical monsters is it? I don't even know, Rose. I don't. Even. Know."

She walked to the end of the counter where a section of it was flipped up in order to allow entry. She came to stand near you, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning a hip against the counter. A small smile curved the corner of her lips as she nodded toward a particular machine with three spouts and three labels indicating the light, medium, and dark roasts of the day. "That one. Behind you. With the mysterious coffee labels."

You half turned and glanced over your shoulder, squinting behind your tinted lenses. "Riiiight. The icky grownup coffee. I knew that."

"Of course you did."

You pointed toward a machine sitting next to it. "What about that one?"

"That is the espresso machine."

"Espressooooo." You said, drawing out the word like you had never heard of it. "Tell me, Rose. What's a cappuccino then?"

Her mildly amused smile stayed in place, and there was a look in her violet eyes that told you she knew exactly where you were going with this. "It's a combination of espresso, hot milk, and foam."

"That sounds delicious. I'll have one." You said, holding out your empty mug.

She looked at it, then to you, somehow managing to meet your eyes despite your sunglasses. She had always been able to do that. "And why don't you make it, Dave?"

"I forgot how."

"I showed you an hour ago."

"You make it better."

"You need to learn."

"I don't like these machines, Rose, and they don't like me. They hiss and bite at me. Look at my war wounds." You lift your free hand to show her the two bandaids on your hand. The one on your forefinger was a small cut from getting it stuck between two metal parts, and the one on the outside of your hand beneath your pinkie was a burn from hot water. So far, your right hand had made it out unscathed. "I'm going to lose a finger to a cappuccino. Without my fingers, how can I draw, Rose? I have an entire cult dedicated to my blog. How will I type? How will I mix my beats, huh? Answer me that. This is my livelihood we're talking about."

She rolled her eyes once again and pushed off from the counter, taking your empty mug. "With sound logic like that, how can I possibly refuse?"

"I thought you might see it my way."

It was your turn to lean against the counter while Rose did her thing. She handled all the knobs and levers and ingredients with two hundred percent more confidence and efficiency. But she had been doing this for several years. You had just started working here a couple months ago. And you had only been trained on coffee prep since this morning. It was only eleven o'clock, and so far, RoLa's Book Room had only had a handful of customers. None of whom decided to buy coffee. The small coffee shop was front and center when someone walked through the front doors. A sign read "RoLa's Cafe" above the menu. There were several machines and devices to make all sorts of coffee creations, and a wall of various liquors to make those creations a little more adult. The bar counter separated the land of coffee making from the customers and was lined with stools. There was a small tiled section in front of the coffee bar with tables and chairs, giving the illusion of a mini coffee shop. 

Beyond that, there were bookshelves. The bookstore rose up around the small nook that smelled of coffee grounds and tea. On either side, there were entrances to the bookshelf maze. The walls were lined with books from floor to ceiling. The maze dove back into the store, into rooms and rooms of maze like shelves. Every once in a while, there were plush leather chairs or couches, tables and cushions to simply sit and relax with a book and the illusion that you were all alone. Both sides of the store wove around the back of the central wall the coffee shop rested against, and in the center behind it rose a metal spiral staircase, with decorated ironwork that detailed leaves.

While the first floor had low ceilings and gave the overall feeling of a cozy cave, the upper floor had tall, vaulted ceilings. The walls, like the first floor, were covered in bookshelves everywhere except for the windows. Halfway up the wall was a balcony that stretched around the entirety of the room, giving it another level of bookshelves. Another, smaller, ironwork spiral staircase twisted a corner, rising up to the second level balcony. All the windows had large, thick curtains that framed them and pooled at the floor. Some were black and some were a deep purple that shone when the daylight ran through them.

The second floor was much like the first with its maze of tall bookshelves. From the floor, you couldn't see above them, but from the second level balcony, you could look down at the maze and see nearly everything. In the center of the second floor, there was a larger sitting area. Four long, worn leather couches surrounded a wood and glass coffee table. There were several, smaller versions of this on the first floor, but with only one or two couches. These areas could be reserved for meetings or for general use, and the second floor central meeting area was the largest. From the center of the ceiling, right above the table, hung an elaborate chandelier. It was made entirely of iron and had similar leaf-like designs as the main staircase. And instead of electric lights, the chandelier had holders for hundreds of candles. Throughout the entire store, the smell of old books and worn leather filled the air, with vague scents of coffee grounds wherever you went.

The thousands of books that filled the store were both for rent and for purchase. The first floor books were both new and used, more general and mainstream, and more frequently purchased. The second floor books tended to be older, more informational, and more expensive. These were more frequently rented rather than bought. The books on the second level balcony were the oldest, rarest, and weren't allowed to leave the store at all. People rarely went up to that level. It was more for Rose's personal collection of dusty tomes and witchery grimoires.  
Roxy had once whispered to you that Rose had placed some sort of spell on the second level books, so she would know if they were touched. You tested this once, climbing the spiral stairs when you knew Rose was stocking shelves downstairs. You had picked a book at random. You flipped through the pages, but it was in a language you didn't recognize. A minute later, you got a text from Rose, asking you to please put Tales From the Furthest Ring back on the shelf. You had felt properly and thoroughly freaked.

Overall, RoLa's had a general dark and gloomy atmosphere that was nearly mysterious and at the same time cozy, comforting, and safe. It was like being swaddled in black velvet with a book and a cup of joe. 

Rose and Roxy had inherited the bookstore from their mother, and many of the books on the second floor had been collected through the generations. Rose and Roxy's mother, and consequently your aunt, had finally put the collection into a building as a private library. When Rose and Roxy inherited it, they made it more accessible to the public, and thus made a living off of it. They added things like the furniture, decorations, and the coffee shop. Though, admittedly, your aunt had already had a wet bar there for her own indulgences. 

"You know, I won't always be here to play nice with the machines for you." Rose said, turning and holding out the mug, filled to the brim with delicious foam.

"Sugar?"

"Already done."

"You're the best."

"I know."

"Besides, if you're not here to cater to my caffeine needs, Roxy will be. After all, I wouldn't trust me alone here, so why would you?" You took the mug and looked down at the drink for a moment before returning your gaze to her. "What? No fancy design?"

Rose sighed and shook her head, but you knew the difference between her amused sigh and her real sigh. Usually, she was amused with you. Usually.

She returned to the small, round high table and reopened her book. You carried your drink to her table, setting it down and taking a seat. She lifted her eyes to you for a second before returning them to her book. You weren't sure what it was called or what it was about. You didn't really care.

Rose wore a purple skirt that went to her knees and a pair of heeled Mary Jane shoes. Her top was a crisp, white short-sleeved button up, buttoned nearly to her collar. Over that, she wore a black cardigan, sleeves pushed to her elbows. Her lipstick was black and her eyeshadow a subtle violet that brought out her eyes. A name tag was pinned to her shirt, and she wore no jewelry. She looked very professional, while still managing to look like a book nerd and, overall, Rose.

What drew your attention, however, was her left hand. There were tattoo-like markings that went from her fingers up her arm to disappear beneath her sleeve. The markings resembled vines. Light green with small leaves of the same color, the vines twisted around her fingers from the middle knuckle, and spread out to the back of her hand. They twisted around her wrist in a way that reminded you of a shackle. Thorns started blooming from the vines as they wound up her forearm. The back of her hand sported small purple rosebuds, and on the outside of her wrist, a rose with various shades of purple bloomed to life. Other colors of roses, smaller and in various states of bloom dotted the intertwining vines all over her forearm. You knew they continued up beneath her sleeve and to her shoulder. Though the vines were green, where they were shaded to look like shadows, there were hints of red that reminded you of blood. Where there were breaks in the vines, her skin shone pale and white.

"You're staring again." Rose said without looking up from her book.

Your lips twisted into a frown, and you sipped your drink, burning your tongue in the process. You ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth, feeling the ball of your tongue piercing grate against it. It was familiar and comforting.

"Is she coming today?" You asked, trying to keep your voice blank.

"No, she's busy in court today." Rose responded smoothly, flipping a page of her book. "You know, you'll have to meet her eventually." 

You made a grumbling sound in your throat, using your burnt tongue to play with your lip ring. It was a nervous habit.

"Roxy likes her."

"Roxy likes everyone who's nice to her." You grumbled.

"So you admit she's nice?"

"No." 

"You have spoken with her online." She reminded you, idly tapping a black-painted fingernail on the tabletop. She had stopped reading and instead was watching you. "From what I recall, you told me," She cleared her throat and continued with an impersonation of you, which really was just her lowering her voice as best she could and doing some sort of cowboy sounding accent. "'your gf is a pretty cool chick, Rose. If she weren't a nerd like you, I might try to steal her away. You know, that, and the fact that she likes the lady cave.'"

"I don't sound like that." You said, frowning. Sure, your accent was there, but it wasn't THAT bad. "Besides, that was when I thought she was just some coffee shop book nerd who read your fanfics and liked boobs and goth girls."

"She is."

"She's also not human." You said bluntly.

Rose's girlfriend was one of the fae. A faerie. But not like a fairy godmother, or a pixie from neverland, or any of those other movie fairies from fairy land with the sparkles and the wings. Though some of them DID have sparkles and wings, it wasn't common. The point was, the fae were cruel creatures who saw humans as nothing more than play things. They were mischievous, vain, and not nearly as nice as Disney wanted the world to believe. They loved tricks and mischief. 

The worst part? The fae lived side-by-side with people, but were unseen. They hid behind a veil of magic called glamour. It was just a trick of the light and mind, but it was one that the average human eye couldn't see through. You could only see a faerie if they decided to show themselves, but they rarely showed their true forms. Sometimes they wove a glamour disguise to make them look human. People couldn't see through that either. 

Unless they had the second sight. 

As far as you knew, there were only two ways of having second sight. One was to have some sort of spell cast on you. You didn't really know the details of that, but you were pretty certain one of Rose's books upstairs did. Some might consider it a blessing, but you couldn't see it as anything other than a curse. Why would anyone willingly cast a spell on themselves? The other way was to have a fae ancestor. The fae gene is strong and persistent. One little boink of a pretty fae hundreds of years ago could leave the ability to see through glamour in your gene pool for generations. 

Turns out, one of your ancestors DID boink a faerie. And so you, and your entire family, not only had knowledge of this other realm living in sync with yours, but you could also see it. The evidence was in your eyes. Your eyes and Rose's eyes, Dirk's eyes and Roxy's eyes. Rose and Roxy had grown up learning how to hide the fact that they could see the fae without having to hide their eyes. You and Dirk learned how to hide your eyes behind shades and how to keep your expression stiff. 

The fae could be cruel if you crossed them, and above all, they hated being seen. They hated their secrets being known. So oftentimes when they found a human with the curse of second sight, they took it upon themselves to remedy that. You had grown up with that warning. Don't give yourself away, or they'll get you. 

You knew first hand just how dangerous they could be.

They were the reason your brother was blind.

And now Rose was boinking one herself.

"She's protecting us." Rose said sternly, locking eyes with shades. There was a fire there. A stubbornness that your family was known for.

"Is that why you sold out to them?"

Her violet gaze narrowed. "I did not sell out." She squared her shoulders, sitting up straight. "I fell in love, David. And as it turns out, she loves me as well. Though I will admit, it took me a while to come to that conclusion myself. But I do not regret it. I'm happy." You held your tongue, knowing that insulting Rose's girlfriend further wouldn't go over well. Despite what she was. "And by claiming me, she has ensured my safety and that of my sister."

"So they really believed her?" 

"Yes," A hint of smug pride entered her voice. "Despite her inability to lie, Kanaya can be very convincing. The court believes that Roxy didn't inherit the gene for second sight."

"What about her eyes?" You asked, raising a pierced eyebrow. You fiddled with your shades. "It's not like she hides them." 

Rose shrugged and wave a hand in the air, as if batting away the idea. "There have been plenty of cases of children born with the gene that carries the eye color but not the sight."

That surprised you. "Really?"

Rose smiled. "No, but that's what our people have been able to convince them over the years. The court believes Roxy and I both inherited the eyes, but only I have the sight. And I am claimed by Kanaya. Through her, Roxy also gains protection. As long as she doesn't slip up and reveal herself, she will be fine. Luckily, our mother taught us how to hide ourselves well."

"Yeah, so did Bro."

 

"We do it without hiding our eyes."

You shrugged. "Everyone has their ways." You said, ignoring the playful jab. "So what about me and Dirk? They already know about you. Are they really going to believe that three of your family members got the eyes but not the sight?"

"Well," Rose paused, idly running her marked fingers over the edges of her book. "They don't know you are related to me."

"Say what now?" This was news.

"Kanaya does," Rose admitted. "She, Roxy, and I discussed it, and we decided it would best if we play you and Dirk off as long-time family friends. You and Dirk hide your eyes anyway, and this way the fey won't be suspicious."

You made a face, thinking about this turn of events, but then you nodded and lifted your mug again. You preferred that the knowledge of your genes stay secret anyway. "Good."

"There are... more." She continued, a little hesitantly.

You nearly choked on your drink. Setting your mug back down, you raised an eyebrow over the rim of your shades. "More?"

"They are friends."

"Do not meddle in the affairs of faeries." You recited, jamming your finger down on the tabletop with each word for emphasis.

The corner of Rose's lip twitched. "The quote, I believe, is wizards."

You narrowed your eyes and lifted your chin to one side. Though she couldn't see your eyes, you knew she could see the tightening of the skin around them. "Mmmm," You made an unsure, contemplative noise. "Nah, definitely faeries."

"'Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.'"

"Sounds a lot like faeries to me." 

"Perhaps."

"Seriously, though, Rose, you can't trust them. I know you're doing the hanky panky with one, and I guess I can't really stop you, and I can't stop the burning in your lady loins for voodoo troll flesh, but that doesn't mean we should be going out and having a faerie jamboree."

"Not all of them. Just a few of them."

"We can't trust them." You repeated, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest.

"I do."

"Well, I don't."

"Do you trust me?" She asked softly. 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, clenching your hands into fists. As much as you didn't trust the fae, as much as you hated them for what they did to your family, as much as you wished Rose and Roxy were as reclusive and you and Dirk, the thing was, you DID trust Rose. And you had a sinking feeling you were going to regret it.

"Yes." You muttered, refusing to make eye contact despite the barrier of your shades. 

Rose reached across the table to rest her right, and unmarked, hand flat, palm up. You hesitated only a moment before taking it. When you looked up at her, she was smiling, but it wasn't her usual half-amused smile. It was soft and comforting. "You're destined to meet one." She said softly.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I don't believe in your 'seer' nonsense." You said, using air quotes with your free hand.

"I know, but that doesn't stop it from being true. You have nothing to fear, Dave."

"I'm not afraid." You said instantly, even though her little predictions did make you a little uneasy and more than a little creeped out. One time, when you were kids, she predicted that you'd  
break your arm only hours before it actually happened.

She smiled, small and knowing. "I know." She patted your hand and then squeezed it reassuringly. "It won't happen again." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. You knew she wasn't talking about her predictions anymore.

You kept your head steady but let your gaze fall, hoping she wouldn't notice that you couldn't make eye contact. "I know..." 

You wouldn't let it happen again.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your name is John Egbert, and you were in a bit of a pickle.

Okay, so your name isn't actually John, but it was the name you went by. No one knew your REAL name but you. Names had power, especially among the fae. And the fae didn't just give out power that easily. Besides, you liked the name John. It was very classically human. That might actually be the reason your dad gave it to you.

But back to that pickle you were in.

It was a salty pickle. A big, green pickle. Literally!

Okay, not literally a pickle, but literally big and green.

The fae was an ogre. Or at least part ogre. His skin was green and bumpy, and coarse black hair sprung up all over his body. There was more of it on his arms than on his head. His brow was broad, his mouth wide, his arms thick, and his hands like hams. He was pretty gross. 

The girl he was with, however, barely noticed. What SHE saw was a tall man, widely built but not grotesquely so. Tan, unblemished skin, a handsome face, and a head full of thick, smooth hair. YOU saw the ogre with a light shimmer around his skin, revealing the transparent image of his glamour.

The couple was walking on the wide brick path that ran along the river. The path was on the edge of a park, and the waterway ran through the city. During the day, when the park was busy, people would run along the path, sit on the benches that faced the water, and stood along the knee high stone wall with fishing lines cast into the river. But it wasn't the middle of the day. The sun had just set and shadows stretched, cloaking the few people who strolled through the park. Including the ogre and his date. 

Normally, this wouldn't bother you too much. Okay, it would, but you would ignore it. You saw fae disguised as humans all the time. And you saw fae seducing humans even more frequently. It rarely turned out well for the humans. ESPECIALLY near the river. You had seen it before and it never failed to make your stomach turn. A kelpie lived in that river, and he was known for doing what kelpies do: aka, dragging unsuspecting women down to their deaths to do...whatever it was he did with them.

You had woken up to your fae self three years ago, and you were still adjusting to it. Most of the time it was great. You could be invisible and play pranks and control the wind and weather. You were the prank MASTER. It was you. That was the awesome part. The hard part was ignoring stuff the other fae did. Usually, they were just mischievous. They played tricks and picked on people. And sometimes people got hurt. And sometimes people died. On purpose. The worst part? You couldn't do anything about it.

Jade had warned you about it. You were a missing heir to the Prospitan court, sent away as a changeling when you were a baby in order to protect you. At least that's what Jade said. She was your sister and also a changeling, but she woke up years before she was supposed to. You were safe as long as you masqueraded as a solitary fae. The solitary fae were allowed to live outside the court and their rule as long as they didn't interfere with other fae. 

So usually you did your best to stay away from the... unsavory fae activities. And you took to the wind as soon as you saw something that would probably end in death. It weighed heavily on your conscious, and you felt bad, but there wasn't much you could do. Yet. Maybe someday you could. Jade had assured you of that. Sometimes you were able to subtly use your windy powers to save people. But this wasn't one of those times. A gust of wind wouldn't stop their scheme.

This woman also wasn't a random stranger. She was your neighbor. You knew her. She lived across the hall. She went to the local community college and worked in a coffee shop to support her education. She lent you a couple eggs once, and you lent her your copy of Con Air. AND she had liked it. She even let you mooch off her internet, though that was a little because of your fae charm. You couldn't remember her name, but you knew her face. She was a cute little brunette. Innocent and not at all deserving of this fate.

The point was you knew her. She was kind of like a friend. And she was about to be offered to a kelpie. 

You hovered behind a tree, up the slope of grass that led away from the brick walkway. You chewed your bottom lip, wrestling with your conscious. You really shouldn't intervene. For your safety, and more importantly for Jade's, you really shouldn't intervene. You should leave, right now. You should go. You knew that. 

"I should go." You said aloud, maybe hoping saying it would make you do it. It didn't.

The ogre had stopped next to the knee-high stone wall. He held out his hand and the woman took it, smiling as she stepped up onto the wall. Out in the dark water, ripples churned as a head and long neck, black and horse-like, rose from the depths. It's eyes glowed like coals. The air seemed to vibrate, and suddenly the woman no longer had eyes for her date. Her gaze was fixed on the river.

"No, no, don't look at it." You whispered, though you knew she couldn't hear you. Even if she could, it would make no difference.

The sharp salty, coppery taste of blood filled your mouth as your teeth cut your lip. You made a high pitched whine sound in the back of your throat. Your fingers dug into the bark of the tree, your blue nails biting into the wood. Your knees curled a little further inward, toward your chest. 

You were hovering above three feet off the ground. Of all of your fae abilities, flying was by far your favorite. In your true form, your skin was pure white that faded to an opaque blue in places. Overall, it had a weird glow to it. Your ears were longer and came to a point, like elf ears. Your eyes were the same deep royal blue as they had been before you woke up, but your irises were bigger and your pupils were vertically slitted. Your eyes were still bad, however, so you still wore your black, square-framed glasses. Your hair was still the jet black mop it had always been. In your faerie form, you wore a pair of loose, blue pants, with a dark blue strip of cloth wrapped around your waist like a sash belt. Around your neck and shoulders, you wore a wide dark blue scarf, the tails of which fell down your back. On your hands, you wore elbow-length, fingerless gloves in the same dark blue as your scarf and belt. You went barefoot and bare chested.  
You would actually prefer to wear more clothes, but Jade had helped you pick these out. She assured you this would help you fit in when in your fae form. And she was right. You were rather modest in faerie terms. It wasn't so bad once you got used to it. It wasn't like ordinary people could see you.

The woman stepped off the stone wall and onto the small slope on the other side. She started walking toward the river. You couldn't see her face, but judging from her posture, she was in a trance. 

"Ugh, don't do it. Don't listen to it." The wind around you picked up, egged on by your agitation. 

It was that wind that brought the words to your ears. 

"Ah, fuck."

The voice muttered lowly and was mostly a sigh, filled with exasperation and defeat. 

You turned your head to see a guy standing on the park path behind you. He wore a red hoodie, zipped up but showing the buttoned red flannel underneath. He had on black jeans and red converses. His blonde hair was thick and swooped to one side across his forehead. A pair of headphones hung around his neck, the chord disappearing into his hoodie pocket. He held a phone to his ear. He wore black fingerless gloves that looked to be leather with flat silver studs on the knuckles. The strangest part though, was the fact that he wore sunglasses. At night. What a dork.

He had several piercings in his ears, and metal gleamed in his eyebrow, septum, and lower lip. 

For one surprising, heart-stopping moment, you thought he was looking at you. But when you followed the direction of his dark-tinted glasses, you realized he was staring past you and the tree, to the woman by the river. 

You realized the ogre was gone. Looking around, you found him. He had dropped his glamour disguise and was walking, invisible, back down the brick pathway, leaving the girl behind to die.  
She was knee-deep in the water when you heard the blond guy speak again.

"No, fuck..." You muttered, watching her wade into the river.

"Fucking shit," He cursed again under his breath. "I gotta go, bro. See you at home." You turned back to him in time to see him hang up his phone. He shoved it in his pocket and immediately started to unzip his hoodie. "Shit, fuck, cock, damn."

His voice wasn't too deep, but not too high. A nice tone. With a slurring southern accent that was subtle and pleasant, but growing more pronounced with each curse he rattled off.  
When his hoodie was unzipped, he shrugged it off, struggling for a moment before he threw it to the ground. He bent down and tugged on his laces until they were loose enough that he could tick off his shoes. He then tugged off his gloves, throwing them down on the pile with agitated force.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck to one side, then the other. He was still watching the girl in the water. He was neck deep now, and still moving forward. He sighed again, his posture deflating a bit.

"Mother. Fucking. Dicks," He said, louder this time. "I hate my life."

And then he was running. 

You watched in amazement as the boy sprinted toward the river. He reached the stone wall, planted a foot on it, and launched himself forward, vaulting into the water. He landed in a not-so-graceful dive with a loud splash and disappeared beneath the water for a second before reappearing. 

The woman was already past the point of standing and swimming further out. The current was slow and lazy, but she struggled to keep her head above the water. You realized, through her flailing movements, that she didn't actually know how to swim. 

You pushed off the tree and flew forward the brick path. You hovered over a bench, wringing your hands and chewing on your bottom lip. It still tasted like blood. You knew the kelpie could see you, but you weren't interfering. The blonde kid was. You weren't breaking any rules, right?

The blonde was swimming with frantic, unpaced stroked, bouncing and bobbing in the water. It was then that you realized he wasn't a strong swimmer either. But at least he was able to stay afloat. He had nearly reached her when she disappeared beneath the water's dark surface. She didn't resurface. He reached the bubbles that were still getting fewer, took a deep breath, and dove. 

You waited, holding your breath along with him. The kelpie was still there, shiny black skin catching any and every light and glistening. The vibrations in the air got stronger. Agitated. Angry.

Before you could give up hope, two bodies violently broke the surface. 

"Yes!" You shouted, pumping a fist into the air. "You got her!" 

The blonde was in the lead, doing his best to swim toward the bank and dragging a flailing woman behind him. He had her around the waist and used his free arm and legs to propel himself forward, but it was a long and difficult process. The woman struggled against him, reaching and groping with empty hands toward the kelpie in the distance. Her efforts were weak and uncoordinated, but she kept pushing her savior's head beneath the water. You could tell he was tiring.

Your impatience got the better of you. You couldn't interfere directly, but you could help him. With a flick of your wrist, fingers still and curled, you called a subtle, but strong wind to blow at the swimmers' backs. It didn't do much, so using both hands, you pulled the wind toward you, propelling the two toward the river bank.  
You flew to them, hovering over them as the blond heaved the woman onto the muddy slope of land. 

"That was amazing!" You shouted, though you knew they couldn't hear you. 

The trance looked broken as the woman clutched at the damp earth and pulled herself out of the water. She clawed her way up to the stone wall, draped herself over it, and puked over the side. 

"Well that's gross," You muttered, turning your attention to the guy.

The blond was laid on his back in the mud. His breath was ragged and faint, his chest heaving in a desperate struggle. You hovered lower, getting close. The wind had stopped. You didn't want them to freeze after all. Even so, the boy's lips looked almost blue. Somehow his sunglasses had stayed on throughout the whole ordeal, but you could tell his eyes were closed. 

"Hey, come on, wake up, Mr. Hero." You said, hovering close. "Wake uuuup, sleepy head, you did it. You're a hero. It's you." You didn't expect him to hear you. Humans couldn't hear you in your fae form and even though you could technically make your voice heard, you didn't want to freak out the woman. But you spoke to him anyway. "Come ooooon, dude." You hesitantly reached out and poked his cheek with one blue nailed finger. He couldn't see you, but you knew he could feel you. Maybe you could prompt him to consciousness. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!" You poked him again. "You saved the damsel in distress. Wake up and get your kiss."

You glanced over your shoulder. The kelpie was still there, dark orange eyes glowing across the water. You felt your gazes' lock, and the vibrations in the air seemed to increase. It's head slowly sank back beneath the river's surface. You watched it disappear, feeling uneasy.

Then the boy stopped breathing. 

You put your hand over his mouth and froze, watching his unmoving chest and trying to feel his breath on your skin. "Fuck, no, don't die on me." You patted his cheek, practically slapping him. "Wake up!" You grabbed the front of his soaked flannel and shook him. "Wake up! You have to go see your bro, remember?"

No response.

Without much of a second thought, you bent down and put your mouth to his blue lips, forcing air down his throat and into his lungs. You pulled back, put your hands on his chest and started pushing. 

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive." You sang to yourself in a desperate whisper, pushing on his chest in time with the beat. "Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' aliiiiive. Stay alive, dammit!"

You bent down again, pressing against his lips and pushing more air in, hoping to force the water out. Somehow, you triggered something. He made a choking sound, gasped for air, rolled onto his side, and threw up water. It was pretty gross, but at least he was alive.

You flew back a few feet, giving him space, and pumped your fist into the air. "Yes! Yesyesyes! Good job, dude! Good job me! My lips are mighty and bring back the dead!" You really needed to stop talking to yourself. This fae thing wasn't good for your psyche.

The guy seemed to stiffen, but that might have been from his coughing fit. When he was done, he rolled onto his back again and spread his arms out wide. His hair blond hair was darker when wet, and both plastered to his face and stuck up in complete disarray. He reached for his shades, making sure they were still in place, but he didn't bother wiping them off. After all, his clothes were soaked, too. 

"High-five!" You said, holding out a hand before you realized what you were doing. "Just kidding. You can't see me and I'm talking to myself. Heh. Oops." 

You didn't know who this guy was, but you liked him. He just threw himself into a river for a complete stranger. 

"W-who... Who are you?" The woman asked, her voice ragged and coarse. You had almost forgotten she was there.

"Dave..." The boy muttered, his chest heaving as he drew in deep breaths. His voice was scratchy. Near death will do that to a man. He cleared his throat and said more clearly. "Dave."

"John." You said reflexively. As impossible as it was, you felt like the blond, Dave, was staring right at you. You could have sworn you saw his lip twitch into what might have been a small smile. Or maybe that was a grimace.

"Fuck me," He groaned. "She was right."

You weren't sure what this meant, but this time it was most definitely a grimace.


	2. Errands

Your name is Dave Strider, and you were being stalked. 

Now it's one thing to be stalked by a crazy ex, or some rando who saw you in a coffee shop a couple of times. It was one thing to be stalked by some creep-a-zoid who read your comic religiously and saw you as a god among men. They wouldn't exactly be wrong. You were a Strider, after all. These were all pretty straight forward stalkings. Some crazy follows you around, takes pictures of you, snips off pieces of your hair, and collects your old gum for a shrine they keep in their closet. Stalkings were no laughing matter, of course. Crazies could get violent and delusional and the situation could get dangerous. 

But honestly, you'd rather take one of those cases over some windy asshole following you around and mother fucking tickling you in public. 

The worst part? No one else could see this windy asshole, and you had to pretend like you didn't either. 

Now, in a normal stalking situation, you'd probably get a restraining order, call the police, or just beat up the jerk yourself. With a fae stalking you, there really wasn't much you could do besides try to avoid him. Which sucked because the fastest way to RoLa's from your apartment was through the park. And that was exactly where the blue asshat knew where to wait for you.

Save a girl's life, get a fae stalker. How was that even fair?

Although, you had to admit, it could be worse. At least the guy wasn't a malicious fae. He could hurt you if he wanted. He could trip you, or push you into traffic, or just straight up cut you, and you would have to pretend you didn't notice a thing. But this guy was just... annoying. For the past week, whenever he saw you in the park, he'd come flying up to you and float along beside you. He'd usually talk to you, or rather himself, and you would keep a blank face. At first that was it, and it was fine. 

But then he started playing tricks. 

He DID trip you one or twice, but just for a laugh. Once, when you stopped to check something on your phone, he tied your laces together. He liked to pull your hood down if you were wearing it, or tug on your headphone chords. One of his favorite things to do was tap on your shoulder to make you turn around. Usually you indulged him in this by looking over your shoulder.

And you absolutely did NOT indulge him because his laughter was contagious, warm, and welcoming. Not. At. Fucking. All. 

You let him go about bugging you, tolerating his shenanigans, but this morning he had crossed a line. And that line was grabbing your fucking sides while you were walking. You, of course, spasmed and flailed in surprise. Because you, like any normal fucking person, were ticklish. You had made some kind of startled shout and froze, standing there in the middle of the path with your arms flung wide and fingers half-curled into claws, knees bent like you were about to high tail it out of there. You realized a second later that you were staring right at the blue fae.

John, the blue windy asshole, was floating a few yards in front of you, several feet off the ground, with his knees curled toward his chest and his arms wrapped around his stomach. He was also laughing his ass off. 

Before he noticed you staring, you made an effort to turn your head as if looking around and not staring directly at a creature you weren't supposed to be able to see. From this show, you learned that a lot of other people were staring at you. Luckily, you did not blush from embarrassment because Striders do not blush or even feel embarrassment. Ever. And when you got to work, Rose mentioning your face looking red was probably because you basically ran the rest of the way, and man, was that a work out. 

"Have you ever had a fae stalker, Rose?" You asked, shelving books with a little too much force. 

"Well..." Her voice trailed off and when you glanced over at her, she was pointedly looking down at her left arm. 

You rolled your eyes. "Not her." 

"She did stalk me, at first. Sort of. I encouraged it. Or rather, I indulged her."

You narrowed your eyes at the books and tried not to let your emotions show. Rose indulging her future fae lover was nothing like your current situation. "She doesn't count."

"Then no. I can't say I have."

"Well, let me clue you in here: it sucks."

"As I've heard," She was stocking books a little further down the bookshelf. It was the young adult section, and probably the quickest sellers. That, and the romance section. She was using delicate fingers to make sure each of the books was in perfect alignment. Meanwhile, you were just jamming them into their places on the shelves. 

"I mean, who even DOES that? Fae, obviously. But usually they don't get all up in your personal space to TICKLE you. Usually it's to sniff your hair or lick your skin or grope your ass or something, you know, more FAE like. But TICKLE me? Tap my shoulder and mother fucking giggle when I turn that way? Seriously, Rose. He GIGGLED. And not that, pixies in the woods or evil chuckle kinda giggle. Just a normal, dorky giggle. This kid is barely even a fae. He's probably the worst faerie I've ever seen. His name is JOHN for fucks sake. He has the option of choosing ANY name in the world to go by, and he chooses John. It doesn't even sound fae. I can't even be stalked by a real fae. I'm being stalked by a JOHN. What the fuck is up with that, Rose? Tell me. Please. Enlighten me as to why the universe sees me as it's own personal butt to poke fun at."

"Well, I've always been of the opinion that your face resembles a plump, freckled and smooth posterior." 

You stopped shelving, book in hand, to glare at her. "Chu sayin', Rose?" You leaned heavily on your accent.

She stood straight, lifting her chin and smiling. Her hands came to rest on her hips. "You heard me."

"Chu SAYIN', Rose?" You tossed a book back and forth between your hands.

"I believe I just called you a buttface, Dave."

"Them's fightin' words, little lady." And you chucked the book at her. You didn't throw it hard, and she managed to catch it. 

"Watch the merchandise, cowboy. We can duel at dawn." She checked the book for damages and tossed it back. You caught it and shoved it on the shelf between the identical copies.

"But all butts aside, seriously, Rose. Do you know of any anti-faerie spell or potion or spray? Got any of that voodoo majuks Roxy's always talkin' about?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully, pausing with a couple fingers on a book that jutted out a little further than the others. "Hmmm..." She hummed lightly, then pushed the book in. "Yes, but I won't give it to you."

You stopped shelving to stare at her. You blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I said I won't give you any anti-faerie magic." She repeated, taking a step sideways to continue fixing the books. 

RoLa's had fairly dim lighting downstairs, where the bookshelves were tall, the windows short, and not a lot of natural light got in. Especially when you dove into the midst of the shelf maze. You had found it hard to see well enough to shelve books. So, because fae almost never entered RoLa's and because the bookshelf maze prevented anyone from seeing you outside of a ten foot radius, you had your shades pushed up to rest atop your head. And since they were up there, you were able to give Rose the full blunt force of your glare. "Why not?"

At the tone of your voice, she glanced over at you, but she was unaffected by your glare. "Because this might be your destiny, Dave." She spoke so lightly and unconcerned, like destiny was something that EVERYONE knew about. 

You threw your hands up in the air and let lose a loud, "UGH," before running your hands through your hair and locking your fingers in, and lightly tugging at the strands. You were careful not to dislodge your shades. "Rose, seriously? Destiny? That's a load of crap and you know it. Besides, even if it WASN'T a steaming pile of male cow dung, don't you think I'd be able to tell when I met someone part of my own destiny? Like, wouldn't I get some kinda magic vibe and just KNOW?"

"No," She said calmly, holding your gaze steadily, her fingers resting on the books. "You wouldn't be able to tell because you do not believe." She gave half a shrug. "Even if you DID get a vibe, you would probably ignore it and pass it off as something else."

You let your hair go and pointed one firm finger at her. "This kid is NOT part of my destiny, Rose. I will not let him be part of my destiny. He's a pain in my perfectly sculpted ass."  
She shrugged again and turned back to the books. She squatted down to reach the bottom shelves, using both hands to systematically straighten them and occasionally rearrange them when they were out of place. "Be that as it may, even if this John isn't part of your destiny, a faerie repellent spell would potentially keep away the fae who IS meant to be part of your future." 

You snorted loudly, scoffing a little extensively to show her just what you thought of that idea. You went back to shelving, but with a lot less care. You were more or less just picking them up from the cart beside you and putting them on the shelf where ever they fit. You had lost the patience and focus to do it right.

"Besides," She continued. "Such a spell would draw attention to you. Bad attention."

You frowned, your brows furrowing as you reached for another book. "Yeah, okay, I get it."  
She knew exactly what to say to keep you from pushing further. You had already drawn attention to yourself with that saving-a-girl-from-a-kelpie stunt. And here you thought you would start a new life in this town. Avoid all detection from any fae. So much for that. 

When you walked through the park, you still felt animosity from the river. The current was slow and lazy, but the anger radiated off it in waves whenever you were in sight. It was the same anger that you had felt the night you had saved that girl. Only then it had been in the water with you. It had threatened to pull you down beneath the waves and strangle you. It pushed you to give up, to give in, to lose any hope. To die.

It was by sheer force of will that you had resisted the call for so long. As it stands, between that pushing on your mind and the girl struggling in your arms, you had nearly given up. It would have been so much easier to just give in and let the kelpie take you to a water grave. You were going to let the beast have you. That is, until you had felt a strong wind on your back. Not only had it literally pushed you toward the shore, but the chill had awaken your mind from the haze that was threatening to swallow you whole. Strangely enough, it had also seemed to actually push the kelpie's influence away, giving your mind a breather and time to make it to the shore. 

You hated to admit it, but the faerie with the stupid name of John might have actually saved your life that night.

A shiver ran down your spine at the memory of that night, and goosebumps ran along your arms. You realized you were fiddling with your septum piercing, making sure it was straight. You're not sure where you picked up the nervous habit, but you made yourself stop. You shook your head, clearing it and returning to the task at hand. Books. Shelving. That was what you were doing. 

"It occurs to me..." Rose started. She had stood once again and taken a few steps to center herself in front of the next shelf. "If this boy is as bad as you make him seen, and if you were truly annoyed to your breaking point, couldn't you just avoid the park all together?" 

"No," You said, your frown fading as you adopted a blank face. It was harder without your shades on. You actually had to make a conscious effort not to let your thoughts show in or around your eyes. Not that your shades ever hid much from Rose anyway. 

"No?" She repeated, a smile forming on her lips and showing in her voice. She glanced at you.

"No." You snapped, refusing to give her the satisfaction of looking at her. She might see something you didn't want her to see. 

Like the fact that yes, you could choose a different route to work, but you didn't want to. The boy got so much enjoyment out of picking on you. Why would you take that away from him? He had, after all, saved your life. 

It had absolutely nothing to do with his eyes, or his goofy smile, or his lean, nearly translucently white chest with hints of blue around his collarbone, nipples, and belly button. And it definitely had nothing to do with the shiver that went down your spine when he laughed. THAT was the reaction of a prey species hearing a noise from a predator species, and nothing more. 

"It's the fastest way to get here from our apartment, and I'm not about to sacrifice any of my beauty sleep to go a different way."

"Mhmm..." Rose hummed, sounding like she was in on a joke that you didn't know about. "Are you sure it's not some voodoo majuks at work? Giving you the vibes that he's the one?" You didn't like her voice or her words. She had no business getting all up in your inner feelings.  
It was time to distract her. 

You picked up one of the books on the cart and held it up. It was one of the many vampire themed books that were in the young adult fiction section. It had some abstract portrayal of vampire fangs. "Hey, instead of getting all up in my business, why don't you study for your own relationship with a blood sucking creature of the night." 

She looked up at you, and her eyes settled on the book.

You opened the book in one hand and flipped through it with the other. "Nah, wait, these aren't nearly juicy enough. Maybe we should head on over to the romance section? Tell me, are the books accurate about the sensation of a neck bite going straight to your lady parts?"

"Oh Dave, if you wanted to know details, all you had to do was ask." Her smile turned sly and wicked. "Kanaya prefers to skip the neck and go straight to my-"

"Oh god!" You dropped the book and it hit the floor with the sound of flipping pages and a dull thud. You slapped your hands over your ears. "Don't say anymore! My ears are innocent!"

Rose took a few steps toward you, talking a little louder. "And you know, books really should delve more into the genre of female vampires. I find most vampire fiction tends to completely omit the pleasurable aspects of the tongue."

"Jesus fucking dicks, Rose!" You shouted, walking away from her, hands still glued to your ears, though they didn't really block out much sound. 

"Why, just the other day..."

"Lalala, I can't hear you!"

"Dave, don't you know what sex between two women is like?"

"We are NOT having this conversation!"

"Well, you see, it's kind of like this," You glanced over your shoulder and she started to do something with her fingers, indicating- oh jesus, fucking, god. You were NOT going to do this with your COUSIN of all people!

Unwilling to remove your hands from your ears, you instead balanced on one foot and used the other to lightly kick at her hands, pushing her away. "Stop it!"

"You started this, Dave. I need you to finish it." She continued to make hand, and finger, motions.

"There will be no finishing for you, young lady! You're grounded!"

Before Rose could fully explain to you the details of lesbian intercourse with her bloodsucking fae lover, the thin, bright sound of bells chimed through the store. The two of you froze and exchanged glances. You released your ears and put your foot down, and Rose straightened her clothes. 

She cleared her throat. "We'll finish this later." She said, adopting her more formal, bookstore owner attitude. Formal, yet friendly. 

"No, we will not!" You said firmly, pointing at her with a stiff finger. 

She patted your shoulder as she walked by. "I'll go see who it is. You finish shelving these books."

"Sir, yes, sir." You stood straight and saluted her.

She rolled her eyes and exhaled a sharp, half-laugh as she disappeared around the corner of a bookshelf. 

You went back to shelving. You were almost done anyway, and without Rose as a distraction, it went by a lot faster. You were about to put the last book on the shelf, some copy of another vampire romance book between two other copies of the same thing, when you heard a familiar sound. 

It wasn't too high, nor was it necessarily low, and it had almost an airy quality to it. It carried well, but it wasn't too loud. There wasn't anything about it that was extra ordinary. Yet it cut through your chest and sent shivers down your spine. You froze as the sound of windy fae laughter filled your ears. 

The sound was interrupted as the hardback book fell from your fingers and landed squarely on your toes before clattering to the floor. You jumped, muttered a soft, "Fuck," and hastily grabbed the book and shoved it on the shelf. You were vaguely aware that your hands were shaking.

You pushed the empty book cart aside and did your best not to run through the shelf maze. The pain in your foot subsided quickly, but you limped a little anyway. Luckily, you didn't have to go far. The young adult section wasn't too far from the front door and the coffee shop. Just a couple rows in. You briefly debating standing on the other side of the bookshelf and peeking through the books. The shelves, however, were made from thick, solid wood, and there would be no seeing through them without x-ray vision. And they were way too high to see over the top. 

You slowed to a stop when you reached the end of the last shelf before reaching the open coffee shop area.

You could hear them clearly through the veil of books.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

Your name is John Egbert, and you felt weirdly uncomfortable in this bookstore.

Iron lingered all over the place. The door itself had big iron hinges and an old iron handle. You supposed it was cool in an old, antique sorta way, but as a fae, not so much. You had to protect your hand with the material of your scarf, which was hidden beneath your glamour, just to touch it, and even then you had still felt a little burn through the fabric. 

The tip of your tongue poked out and idly ran over your bottom lip, where the skin was red, puffy, and scabbed in healing from a line-like burn. When you had saved the blond boy, Dave, from the river, you hadn't thought twice about giving him a little mouth to mouth to save his life. What you hadn't thought about at the time, or even realized, was the guy's lip piercing. You only noticed the burning after he woke up and practically ran away. Now it was an icky red welty scab. 

Iron was poison to faeries. Anything with iron in it burned. For most of your life, you had assumed you were somehow allergic to metal. It used to give you rashes, but it never burned. Not until your changeling glamour was peeled away. It had protected you for your entire life. But now you were just as susceptible to iron as the next fae.

Your eyes went upwards, looking at all the different iron lighting fixtures that loomed above you.

"And which is this?" The blonde girl asked, drawing your attention back down. Oh! Right, you were in the middle of a job for your sister.

"That's the, uh..." You paused and looked down at the brochure in your hand, looking for the pastries that had been circled with a blue permanent marker. "Double chocolate cupcake with a salted caramel glaze."

"And that?"

"A blueberry scone."

"This one?"

"A mixed berry cheesecake."

"Hmm...I might just need to try that one now." 

"Oh, here! Jane made me bring paper plates and forks and stuff." You pulled them out of a bag you had brought with you and passed them to her. Jane had told you her name was  
Rose, which was confirmed when she introduced herself.

She was pretty, in a sophisticated and smart kind of way, but without looking like a nerd. Her skirt and purple button down looked very professional, and her hair was very neat and clean cut with a black headband. She couldn't have been much older than you. Her eyes were the a pretty purple, which was cool and rare and stuff, but you couldn't help but stare at the markings on her arm instead of her eyes.

You had only heard about such things from Jade, but the vine and flower tattoos that curled around Rose's left arm were unmistakable. A light green aura emulated from the markings, surrounding her entire body. 

Rose was claimed by a fae, and it put you a little on edge. Did she also have second sight? Could she see through the glamour that hid your fae clothes under the disguise of average yellow sneakers, dark jeans, and a hoodie? Could she see see your paper white and blue skin? What about your pokey elf ears? She hadn't given any indication that she COULD see your true self, but that didn't mean she couldn't. 

UGH! Why wasn't there some kind of glowing sign over humans that read "second sight! these guys can see you!"

"Thank you." Rose said, smiling. She stuck the fork in the cheesecake and took a delicate bite. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back. "Mmmm... Wonderful. Roxy wasn't exaggerating when she told me of this place."

"Yeah, Jane's pretty great. She mostly likes to do cakes and stuff, but she's branching out. Especially with this coffee house food. I think it was Roxy's idea." 

Your older sister opened up her bakery, Cupcake Beast, a couple years ago, and business was steady but flourishing. She had recently made friends with this girl named Roxy. You'd only met Roxy a couple of times, and she was pretty cool. And pretty. But that was beside the point. The point was, Roxy and Jane were already bff's, and your sister couldn't be happier. 

"This one's an apple spice muffin with a really good cinnamon crumble thing on top. I like it cause it's not too sweet." You continued, listing off the rest of the items in the bakery box. "Then there's the cherry tart, the chocolate croissant, and the chocolate espresso donut. I'm supposed to tell you that she can mix up the flavors of any of these."

"Well thank you for bringing these by, John. I certainly appreciate it. And though I've only tried this cheesecake, I can almost guarantee that RoLa's and Cupcake Beast will have a prosperous new friendship."

You grinned. "Jane will be happy to hear that!"

"Tell me, do you usually work in your sister's bakery?"

"Well, no. But she guilted me into running this errand for her, and she threatened to beat me with a spoon, heh." You ran your fingers through your hair and scratched at the back of your neck. Your sister could be fearsome with that spoon. 

You did work at your sister's bakery, but not all that often. Usually when you were bored or she guilted you into it. But you hadn't been that bored lately. Dave was a lot more fun to mess with than sitting in a bakery all day. But today she had guilted you into running a delivery trip for her. Well, half-guilted, half-begged, and half-bribed. 

"She sounds like a handful." Rose said, looking at you from her seat at the high table. 

You shifted your weight and looked down at your feet. Her violet eyes made you a little uncomfortable. It was like they saw right through you. "Yeah, well, I give her a run for her money." You gave her a look and did your best to wiggle your eyebrows. "I'm a bit of a handful myself." Your eyebrows froze and your eyes widened when you realized what you had said. You put your hands up in defense. "I didn't mean...not like..." You could have sworn you heard muffled laughter somewhere in the store. 

"I know what you meant." Her eyes seemed to laugh. "I can't possibly taste test this all by myself. I'm gonna need some help..." She turned away from you and looked toward the bookshelves that surrounded the small coffee shop, right where you thought you heard the laughter from. "Dave."

You froze, your smile fading. Dave? No, there was no way. There must be like...a billion Daves in the world. She couldn't be referring to YOUR Dave.

"Dave, will you come here? I would like your opinion." Her voice was calm, crisp, and clear. She called loud enough to be heard most anywhere on the ground floor, seeing as there wasn't anyone else in the shop and it was fairly quiet. You found yourself holding your breath and watching the bookshelf gap where her gaze was settled.

After a moment, he stepped around the bookshelf. Hands in his pockets, he strode toward you and Rose, hesitating only slightly when he saw you. His face was blank and relaxed, and you were surprised to find that he not only wore his sunglasses during the day and at night, but also inside. What a dweeb.

"Sup, Rose?" He asked, coming to a stop next to the table where Rose sat. He still wore the same lame record t-shirt that he was wearing this morning when you played the best prank ever and tickled him. He had jumped like three feet in the air. And oh man, his face! You wish you could have gotten a picture. Next time you will.

He tilted his head a fraction, turning those dark shades on you for a second before looking back at Rose. His piercings caught the light and shone like fire. How many did he even have in his ears? A lot. And one in his eyebrow, one in his lip, and one in his nose. You vaguely realized you were staring. And your mouth was hanging open. Fuuuuck. So uncool, Egbert. Nice. You snapped your mouth shut, softly cleared your throat, and shifted your weight.

"Sup?" He asked again, when no one spoke. He and Rose were having a staring contest. You couldn't read his eyes, so you glanced at Rose. She was looking at him neutrally, but her eyes held some amusement that you couldn't place. 

"Dave, this is John." Rose said, gesturing to you with her plastic fork. "John, this is my childhood friend, Dave. He works here."

Wow, what luck. And you were seriously considering turning Jane down when she asked you to run this errand. You're so glad you didn't. Now you actually got to meet Dave, for real. This was your moment. Be normal. Be...human. Shouldn't be too hard. You spent eighteen years of your life thinking you were human. Be cool, Egbert. Be cool. Be cool like Dave.

You grinned wide and friendly and stuck out your hand. "Hi!"

Nailed it.

He turned to you and looked down at your hand. Then he nodded a little with his chin. "Hey." He kept his hands in his pocket and turned back to Rose.

You blinked a few times, and awkwardly let your hand drop. You put it on your other arm and rubbed your elbow. Riiiight. No handshakes. He had no reason to be friendly towards you. After all, he didn't even know you existed until now. You had been the one following him and learning about him. You were just some cupcake delivery guy. 

The realization sat solidly and uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. 

"John's sister, Jane, owns the Cupcake Beast bakery." Rose continued when it was clear that neither of you planned on saying more. "Roxy is friends with Jane, and they've been discussing the benefits of striking up a business relationship. Since Roxy has been busy helping your brother, and I haven't had time to leave the store, Jane was thoughtful enough to send John with some things to taste." Her smile was perfectly pleasant, relaxed and upturned at the corners. But her eyes told you she knew more than she was letting on. Your attention was shifted from Dave and settled on Rose, but they were still locked in a staring contest. 

Your eyes slid down to her fae tattoos again. 

Rose obviously knew about faeries, but did Dave? Your mouth twisted into a frown. No, that couldn't be it. Claimed humans couldn't just go around talking about it. Even to family and friends. The fae liked their secrets, and spreading secrets was the best way to make faeries mad.

Whatever was passing between them must be some kind of inside joke. You needed to stop being so paranoid. 

"Cool," He said, nodding. "This place could use some real food. I swear, Rose, you're trying to starve me. How can I possibly keep my precious man figure when you don't provide me with my daily recommended snack allowance? I need my snacks, Rose. Roxy brings me snacks. Why don't you love me like Roxy does?"

You snickered, lifting a hand to cover up your mouth. Dave turned to you, frowning and you tried to stifle your laugh by clearing your throat, your eyes widening. You had forgotten he could hear you right now. He turned back to Rose, his lips pressed into a thin line. You couldn't be sure because of the lighting and his sunglasses, but you could have sworn his cheeks were red.

"Well, lucky for you, we should hopefully soon have some pastry options at RoLa's Cafe."

"Good, well, I'm gonna go back to shelving." He said, pulling a hand from his pocket and gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "Nice to meet you, dude." He said before spinning on his heel to walk away.

His decision to leave was sudden and caught you off guard. You took an involuntary step and muttered after him. "You, too!" 

"Why don't you stay and try some of these." Rose asked, and he froze mid-step.

"What." He said flatly, spinning back around, his shoulders stiff.

She waved her fork at the box. "You like food, and you just said you wished there was more of it around. So why don't you try some? I can't possibly taste test all of them."

You watched as several emotions seemed to pass over him. You watched the conflicting thoughts wrestle for dominance in his expression.

"Fine." He said, trying to remain casual as he settled into the seat across from Rose. He instantly reached for the chocolate espresso donut, but froze with it just inches from his open mouth. You watched curiously as he just stared at Rose. You tilted your head to the side and looked between them.

"Is... something wrong?" You asked.

Rose somehow managed to read his mind. "I promise you, they're delicious." She said this with her eyebrows slightly raised and her chin slightly downturned, staring at him through her lashes. 

As if this was the cue he had been waiting for, he took a huge bite out of the donut.  
You didn't understand half of what passed between Rose and Dave, and it gave you a weird little twisting in your gut. 

"Ow. Ma. Gawd." Dave moaned through a full mouth, letting his head tilt back and his body slump in the chair. He swallowed. "Jesus fucking christ. Rose. Make this business deal. I beg of you." 

You snorted a laugh that dissolved into chuckles. "I think he likes it." 

It was hard NOT to like Jane's food. Fae food was naturally alluring and irresistible, especially to humans. But Jane didn't like her fae-self. Her changeling glamour had been shed years ago, but she still refused to accept it. She refused to even learn anything about it. But you had your suspicions that she instinctively used her fae abilities. Sure, her baking was delicious, but there wasn't anything like a little fae crack to keep them coming back for more.

"I think you're right." Rose sounded amused. 

He held up a finger at you. "Shut your face, John. I'm still enjoying bliss over here."

"You know, if you like that one-"

"Shhhh..."

"Maybe you should try the-"

"Shhhhhh..." He leaned forward, finger still outreached, and pressed it to your mouth. You felt your eyes widen in surprise at his touch, and then wince a little in pain. He somehow managed to press exactly on your healing burn, which you had kept hidden with your glamour. The spot mirrored his lip ring, so maybe the aim was subconscious? "Shhh..." He repeated, pushing a little harder. You winced again at the pain. Then he pulled his finger back and tapped your nose. "Shhh...this donut and I are having a moment."

"Did you just boop my nose?" You asked, still in a state of shock at the touch. You were so used to him being unable to see you. Touching you was strange. But not bad. Even if it did hurt. 

"Maybe..." He muttered through another mouthful of donut.

Your surprise faded into a smile, and you laughed. "Wow, Dave, you're a dork." 

"Yes, yes, he is." Rose said, amused. "Would you like anything to drink, John?"

"Oh! Um, a coffee?"

"Just a coffee?" Rose asked, one eyebrow raised as she pushed her seat back. 

"Yes, please."

"Cream or sugar?"

"Just cream."

That made Rose pause, one hand still on the table. "Really?" 

You turned away from Dave, as hilarious as the sight of him with that donut was, and looked at Rose."Is...there something wrong?"

 

Rose blinked, visibly gaining control over her surprise. "It's nothing," She said carefully. She glanced at Dave, who was clearly ignoring both of you, and back to you. "It's just that my girlfriend prefers a lot of sugar. I guess I'm just used to making it that way."

"Oh..." Your eyes slid from her face to her arm before snapping back up. Faeries were notorious for loving sweets. Rose would know that. "Oh! Heh, I'm not really big on sweet stuff. My dad kinda overdosed me on cake when I was a kid."

"Ah," Was all she said before she left the table, heading for the coffee bar to pour your drink.  
Dave had finished his donut and was busy sucking chocolate off his fingers. You wanted to talk to him, but you weren't really sure what to say, and he didn't seem all that interested in you either. So you fidgeted, picking at your nails and looking around the store. It was a nice little place, you guessed. But something about it seemed a little off. Like it was giving you a big foreboding vibe. 

Rose returned and handed you a coffee in a to go cup. You mumbled a thanks, took a sip, promptly burned your tongue, and cradled it to your chest. 

"So, Dave, do you two know each other?" She asked as she settled back into her seat.  
Dave nearly choked, and you sputtered. "No." You said a little too quickly.

"No." He said a little too loudly.

You both exchanged looks before turning your eyes back to Rose. She looked innocent as she sat back in her seat, but you could tell she knew something. You just didn't know what.

"Oh, you mentioned knowing a John recently, and I was just curious."

There was a thump under the table, and Rose winced. You did your best to hold your face neutral. "There are a lot of Johns in the world, Rose." He said, his voice pointed.

She shrugged and dipped her fork into the cheesecake once again. "My bad." 

"Yeah, it's pretty common." You added. "I've never met you guys before today." You felt awkward, but it was true. You'd seen Dave. You'd given him CPR when he needed it. You'd saved his life. And you'd been following him in the park ever since. You'd played pranks on him. But you hadn't met him until today. 

You followed him without him knowing.

Holy crap, you were a stalker. Your brow furrowed and your mouth pinched into a frown. You felt your face contorting at the realization, so you tried to hide it by taking another sip of your coffee. It was hot and bitter, but not too bitter, thanks to the milk.  
Your fae abilities had led you to stalking someone in the name of friendship. Or in the name of making friendship. But you had gotten so wrapped up in picking on him that you hadn't actually initiated friendship. So you just ended up stalking him.

Great. 

"Which one is your favorite, John?" Dave asked.

The sound of your name tore you from your thoughts. "What?"  
He was leaning back in his chair and waved a hand at the open pastry box. "I gotta try another one. Which one is your favorite?"

"Oh, um, the apple spice muffin." You said, taking a step forward and pointing at it.  
He picked it up and took a bite without much hesitation. He chewed, thoughtful, and then nodded. "Another A-plus from me. You know what would go great with this? Some apple juice. Hey, Rose, do we have any apple juice?"

Rose was picking up the blueberry scone. She rolled her eyes. "No, Dave, this is a coffee shop. We typically don't carry apple juice."

He frowned and waved his muffin at her. "Well we should."

"Your argument is so compelling, I'll make sure we have some in stock next week."  
"Damn straight." 

There was a buzzing in your pocket that made you jump. You pulled out your phone to find a text from Karkat. 

Karkat: WHERE THE FUCK AT YOU, DIPSHIT? YOU SAID TO MEET YOU AT JADE'S PLACE AN HOUR AGO TO WATCH THIS CONAIR THAT YOU CLAIM IS GENIUS. WELL I DOUBT THAT. BUT REGARDLESS, I'M HERE. SO WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?  
John: you know you dont have to type with caps lock

The response was almost instant. 

Karkat: WHAT THE FUCK IS CAPS LOCK?  
John: nevermind i had to run an errand for jane sorry i forgot about you :B im on my way!  
Karkat: YOU BETTER FUCKING BE BOTH SORRY AND ON YOUR WAY.

You shoved your phone back in your pocket, stifling a sigh. You didn't want to go. You wanted to stay with Rose and Dave. But you HAD made plans with Karkat, and finally got him to agree to watch Conair. You couldn't blow this opportunity. Neither of the blondes seemed to be paying much attention to you, but you got the feeling they were. 

You scratched at the back of your neck with your free hand. "So, um, I promised a friend I'd meet him an hour ago, so I gotta go." 

"Seems like you're a little late." Rose teased. 

"A wizard is never late!" You said, giving her an eyebrow waggle. 

That made her smile. "That is very true."

"Roxy told me you like wizards."

"She wasn't wrong."

"Careful with all this wizard talk, John. You're gonna make her dank." There was a thump under the table. "Ow, fuck." He bent over the table, rubbing his shin underneath.

You scrunched up your face at him. "Ew, Dave."

Rose scowled at him. "Serves you right."

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbled, still rubbing his injured shin. 

"So, um..." You paused, holding your coffee in both hands and fiddling with the lid. An idea was coming to you. You looked at Dave, then Rose. "Since I have to go, but you have more tasting to do, can I give you guys my number? You can text me about it, or call me. And maybe we can arrange more deliveries?" Your gaze slid to Dave once again, but he wasn't looking at you.

Rose's lips slowly came out of her scowl and curved into a wide smile. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Dave? Get out your phone and take John's number."

He looked up sharply. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Rose crossed her legs and bit off a bite of her scone. She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "I will certainly be too busy to give John a full report. And you DID say you wanted more snacks around here. You and John can arrange the delivery of more at a later date. Unless... You can think of any reason not to?"

His nose wrinkled, and he pressed his lips together. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it. "Fine."

He took out his phone and you rattled off your number while he typed it into his phone. 

"Okay, well I'll see you guys later!" You grinned, already walking towards the door. But you were walking half sideways and half backwards and ended up tripping on your own feet. You caught yourself though, and managed not to spill your coffee. Floating all day made you clumsy with your feet. "Oops." You tried to laugh it off, and turned away from them before they could see you blush. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe it. Dave had your number. And soon, you would have his.

As you retreated, you heard another thump of the table, but this time it was Rose who cursed.


	3. Small World

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you weren't as helpless as people wanted to believe. 

Yes, you were blind. You had been for a little over a year. You still weren't exactly used to it. Some morning you woke up first confused as to why you couldn't see, and then hit with a wave of grief for what was lost. But you were learning to manage. 

The point was, you were tired of being a mopey shit, and you were ready to start taking care of yourself and your life again. But your family refused to leave you alone. 

First Dave was always there. He hovered over you like mother hen. You could see the way his hands fluttered and you could hear the way his voice shook and the way he rambled. You could barely turn around without nearly tripping over him. It was bad enough that you had been dealing with your own depression and self-misery. You were tired of dealing with his, too. You were tired of saying, "No, I'm not mad," and "Yes, I forgive you." And let's not forget, "Yes, I miss my sight, but I'll be fine," and "Dammit, Dave, just let me pee by myself."

After the incident, you both knew you had to move, and it was a fairly easy choice. Being near family was the best option, and Roxy and Rose were all you had. By the time you arrived and found a new apartment to settle into, Dave was doing more harm than help. He meant well, but he just made you so exhausted. And being exhausted wasn't what you needed to be in order to get your life back. 

So when Rose, who had always been very perceptive, offered Dave a job at RoLa's, you had encouraged him to take it and get out of the house. He did, but only under the condition that someone stayed with you instead. Roxy had volunteered, and you were relieved. You loved your brother, but he needed to heal just as much as you did. And hanging around you, and seeing the result of his actions, wasn't going to help him. 

Plus, Roxy was great to have around. She was closer to your age than Rose, being only a year younger, and she refused to pity you. Baby you, yes. She did that. But she didn't pity you, and that was refreshing. However, she, like Dave, refused to leave you alone to have one moment of some goddamn peace and quiet. 

"Open up for the airplaaane! Whooooosh!" She said, and you knew she was waving the spoon around in the air as she did the sound effects. 

You most certainly did not open up. If anything, you pressed your lips tighter together and glared at her from behind the shades you wore. Your glare was less effective now that you couldn't see. But the urge to narrow your eyelids was still there. The shades, pointy and triangular, had been a regular part of your wardrobe from before you were blind. Like Dave, you had grown up with the idea to hide your eyes ingrained in your habits. So now it was only fitting that you continued to wear them. Blind people wore shades all the time. And you had a feeling by continuing to wear them, you gave Dave a sense of normalcy. 

"Roxy," You said flatly, but she continued her sound effects. "I assure you, I can feed myself."

"Woooosh, better open up, Dirky-poo! The airplane needs a place to land!"

"This is ridiculous." 

She stopped, and there was a brief moment of silence. "You're right. You're a big boy. And big boys like trains! Choo-choooo! Open up for the traaaain!"

"I may be blind, but I know where my mouth is. And my motor-skills are still functional." You were sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. One elbow rested on the countertop, propping your head up in your palm. The other folded on the counter in front of you. Roxy sat next to you, a big bowl of mac n' cheese in front of her, spoon in hand. 

You forced yourself to sit perfectly still as she tapped your cheek with her spoon. You could feel the small bit of cheese residue it left on your cheek. You resisted the urge to wipe it off.

"Roxy."

"Dirk!" You could practically see her sitting up straight as she turned on her scolding voice. "This train has some very importante cargo its tryin to drop off. You're gonna make the conductor late and he's gonna get fired. What will his wife and kids do without his income, Dirk? Huh? You don't want that, do you?" You didn't say anything, or move at all, but she took your silence as an affirmative. "Good, now open up."

You sighed, slouching a little in defeat, and opened your mouth to allow her to shove the spoon in. This went on for only a few more spoonfuls, before she laughed.

"I can't believe you let me do that."

You finished chewing, swallowed, and shrugged. "Sometimes it's best to just let you get your crazy ideas over with."

"Well, thank ya much for indulgin me. What a southern gentleman. Now I think you're adult enough to eat by yourself."

She pushed the bowl across the counter until it nudged your hand. You felt around it, getting a bearing on its location, and felt around for the spoon that stuck out of your macaroni. "Thanks, mom." You said, dryly. 

"No problem, honey." You could tell she was smiling.

Eating was pretty habitual. The movements were the same. The only difference was now you couldn't see how much was left in the bowl, or where it was. Once you got down to a few bites left, you gave up trying to be proper, and used your other hand to feel around and usher the macaroni into your spoon, sucking the cheese of your fingers afterward. 

You heard the clink of spoon in bowl as Roxy finished her own lunch, then the shift as she stood up and took your bowl. You followed her with your eyes as she walked around the kitchen island to the sink, then over to the fridge. You saw her body shift as she looked over her shoulder at you. 

"You know, it's super mega creepy when you do that."

"What ever do you mean?" You asked innocently. You knew exactly what she meant.

"The whole, watching-without-seeing sorta dealio." She waved her hands in the air in emphasis. "You always find a way around everything, even being blind. How many fingers am I holding up." She held a hand out, away from her body, and held up three fingers. 

"Three." She put one down. "Two." She opened up the whole hand. "Five."

"See what I mean? You shouldn't be able to see that."

"You should be used to our family seeing things we shouldn't be able to." You stated, raising your eyebrows.

"Well, you got me there."

She, like the rest of your family, had second sight. Her eyes were a pretty shade of pink. Not quite as potent as Dave's red eyes, but not as muted as Rose's violet eyes. She, however, didn't hide her eyes. She used her energetic personality, and habitual alcohol drinking, to hide her sight. Your upbringings had yielded very different methods for dealing with your genetic problem, but the idea was the same: don't let them know. 

Your punishment wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. You still had your life.

"If it makes you feel any better, I can't see your face. You can't hide your fingers, but you can make all the faces at me as you want."

"Oh, and I do." She opened the fridge, paused, and sighed. "Why don't you guys ever have anything besides orange soda and apple juice?"

"I think there's some milk in there, unless you used it all on lunch."

"Your fridge has some serious lack of more adult type beverages." 

"We know better than to leave our alcohol out in the open."

She closed the fridge. "Pfff, I'm not that bad." You heard the pop and sizzle of her opened a soda can. “Besides, I could find it if I wanted to.”

"You could be better about it." She had gotten better about her alcohol consumption over the years. It was a habit she probably picked up from her mom, but it got worse after her mom died. It was more controllable now, and she was drunk far less frequently. It didn't stop you from worrying about her though. “And we are masterful hiders.”

"Whatever," She waved a hand in your direction. "Enough about that. Get your shoes on and get your pokey stick. We're going out!"

You raised both eyebrows over the rim of your shades. "Out?"

"Did I stutter? Yes, out! We've spent weeks cooped up in this apartment that smells like boy. We need to get you some fresh air. And I know just where to go." She sounded very proud of this active decision. It was true, you rarely liked to leave the apartment. Usually, Dave would leave for work, Roxy would arrive, and then leave when Dave got home. All without you having to go anywhere. 

"And where's that?"

"The Cupcake Beast! It's a bakery my friend Jane owns. It'll be fun!"

Your eyebrows stayed in their raised position. "Is this the same Jane who is a faerie?"

"Well, yes, but she doesn't know I know, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't even WANT to be fae. There's nothing really fae about her, except for the, you know, glamour." She waved a hand around in front of her, indicating her face and body. 

"Do I have to go?" You asked, doing your best to keep the whiney tone out of your voice. You knew Roxy and Rose had a different approach to the fae than you and Dave. You were fine with it. But you really didn’t want to get involved with them.

"Yes." She said firmly. You saw her put her hand on her hip. "Dirk, look at yourself."

You didn't even bother to look down. "Yeah, let me get right on that. What's wrong with me?"

She shifted back, and you figured she was either leaning on the fridge or the counter. "You're wearing the same shirt you've been wearing for two days, you haven't worn real pants in a week, and I don't even want to know about your underwear."

"These pants are comfy." You muttered, idly picking at your Rainbow Dash pajama pants. 

"Is the scruff on your chin comfy too?"

You resisted the urge to scratch at your chin. You dreaded shaving now, and avoided it as often as you could. "What's your point?"

"My point is, you're in a rut. You need an excuse to get out of the apartment, and what better excuse than cupcakes?" She stood straight and came toward you. You knew she was about to touch you, but it was still a little surprising anyway. Seeing someone as a blur of colored light and feeling them as flesh was very contradicting. She gently, but firmly, pushed you off the stool. "Go shower. Go. No more complaining to mama Roxy. You stink worse than the incense that Rose bought on sale."

_________________________________________________________________________

You showered, with the door open so Roxy could hear you if you needed help, and shaved, with very minimal accidents, and put on clean clothes, which Roxy helped you pick out. You even did your hair all by yourself. You had been doing it the same way for so long that the process of applying gel and running your fingers through your hair just right was all muscle memory. Plus, Roxy assured you it looked fine. And you trusted her. For the most part.

You put your shoes on, grabbed your hoodie, mounted your shades back on your nose, grabbed your cane, and Roxy ushered you out the door. You picked at your jeans as the two of you headed for the stairs. They felt tight and restricting after wearing your loose pajama pants for so long, yet oddly comforting. Your hoodie was a warm familiar weight on your shoulders and arms. 

As much as you hated to admit she was right, it did feel nice to clean yourself up and get out of the apartment. It was just so easy to sit around and let the days pass. It was so easy that it became comfortable. It was easy to lose yourself in the movement of time and the butt indent on your couch. 

You held out your cane, and the rubber stopper on the edge bumped against each stair, guiding you down. Your cane had been custom made, designed by yours truly. If you were going to be stuck being blind and with a cane, it was going to be one worthy of a Strider. The cane was just over three feet in length, black, with a bright orange tip that ended in an orange rubber stopper. It was sleek and thin, without being too thin, and was solid, with none of that folding business that most canes had. Those were for portability, yours was for a little more. 

The handle was polished metal with a little bit of a curve to fit your hand, and wrapped in orange leather for a better grip. Unconventional as it was, it was very you. And the piece de resistance? A subtle and barely noticeable safety lock, when pressed and twisted, allowed you to pull the handle from the rest of the cane, revealing a sharpened, sturdy, and metal sword. 

You were very proud of it, and it made you feel a lot more comfortable about walking around blind. 

Holding the cane itself was easy to get used to. You had spent most of your life training with a sword, and the cane felt much like that. Just an extension of your arm. It was comfortable, and more importantly, made you feel powerful. 

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, Roxy steered you in the opposite direction from the parking lot. 

You raised an eyebrow. "Not driving?"

She locked arms with you. You could smell her shampoo, but you couldn't place the scent. She was warm against the cool air of late september, and practically bounced at your side. "Nope, more fresh air for you!"

"Lucky me."

She guided you along the sidewalks, occasionally turning or pausing before crossing the street. You kept your cane tip on the ground, keeping a constant look out for bumps in the way, and kept your chin high. 

The air smelled of a solid mix between nature and city. Car exhaust mixed with the smell of grass as you walked through the park. You could hear car engines and children laughing, the mumbled blur of voices speaking together but separate. Roxy's boots scuffed the pavement with every step. She was humming to herself. Something that was both familiar and completely unrecognizable. As you passed through the park, the wind kicked up and you heard the brush of leaves in the trees. You felt the breeze slide across your skin and try, and fail, to move your hair. In the distance you heard the vague gurgle of the river. A car horn in the distance, peeling tires. The deep rumble of a plane overhead. Dogs parking, and birds chattering. You could smell dirt and freshly laid tar, the nearby corn dog stand and dog poop. It was strange experiencing the world without sight. New and exhilarating, but also discomforting and mildly terrifying. 

At least your world wasn't completely dark. 

Due to a dominant gene passed down through your family, you were born with second sight. It gave you, and your entire family, the ability to see everything the world had to offer. That meant seeing through the illusions that blinded the average person. Seeing the fae, seeing through their glamour, through their disguises. Seeing the truth. 

When the fae scarred your eyes and took your sight, they assumed you would forever live in a world of darkness. You did, too. But when you opened your eyes, dreading your new life, the world, surprisingly, wasn't all black.

For reasons you didn't completely understand, second sight was more than just seeing through glamour. It was about seeing energy. Every living thing gave off energy. And that energy had different colors based on the being. The fae had the ability to convert that energy, control it, manipulate it. By warping the energy, the light that people saw by, they could hide from the average human eye. Those with second sight couldn't be fooled and saw through cheap tricks. 

When the fae took your sight, they only took your average sight. Or, as you jokingly liked to call it, your first sight. Your second sight was still there. 

Your world was dark, but you could see the energy that living creatures gave off. The colored energy shapes of people were the most common. The fae shone in multi-colored arrays and brighter, especially when using glamour. Animals were dimmer, and plants were very vague. But it painted a picture of the world that you were learning to live by. 

It didn't give you a perfect picture, but it did help you know where people were, and more importantly, where the fae were. 

You had spent many nights explaining your world to Rose, and discussing second sight. She was well versed in the history of your people and your condition. Her personal library, stocked by her mom, had many books on the subject. But there was still so much you didn't understand.

"Are we there yet?" 

"Patience, padawan!" She pulled on your arm, forcing you to slow down. "Stop and smell the roses!"

"There aren't any roses around here."

"How would you know?"

"I'm blind now, remember? Better sense of smell and all that."

"Bullshit! You're just guessing!" She accused.

You shrugged, a small smile tugging the corner of your mouth. "Maybe."

She lightly punched your arm. "Ow!" You said, humoring her. You pulled back from her a little, tugging on her grip on your arm, but not actually pulling away. "You would actually hit a blind dude? You're a terrible handler, Roxy."

You expected her to banter back with you, like she always did. Maybe hit you a couple more times. Instead she was quiet. Her grip on your arm tightened just a fraction. 

"Maaaybe..." She let the word dangle and fall away. 

You tilted your head towards her. "Maybe, what?"

"Hmmm, nothing." You could feel the slight breeze from her hair as she shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

You stopped walking, turning to face her. "Roxy, you know I was only kidding."

“I know… It’s just that…”

“What?”

"Dirk, don't make me do this." She was pouting. You could hear it in her voice.

"Roxy." 

"Diiiirk."

"Roxy."

"Dirk." She lowered her voice and spoke firmly, trying to imitate your tone. You refused to laugh.

"Roxy."

"Ugh, fine!" She sighed heavily, the kind that releases all your air and slumps your body. "Look, Dirky babe, you know I love you, right?" She rested a hand flat on your chest. 

"Yes." 

"Okay, so, don't take this the wrong way, okay? Promise?" You just raised an eyebrow and waited. "I just think, maybe, you should... hire a caretaker?"

"I don't need a caretaker." You said automatically, defensively. 

"Okay, maybe not a caretaker." She patted your chest, as if she was trying to calm you down. "Maybe a helper? An assistant?"

"A babysitter." You said dryly.

"No! Not like that! Dirk, it's just that..." She groaned, then sighed, shifted her weight, and shook her head again. "Okay, look, I'm gonna lay it all out for ya, and you're gonna sit there and listen, capeesh?"

You pressed your lips together, but nodded. 

"Alright, I know you're all stubborn and independent and don't need no help." She released your arm and took a step back, holding up her own hands defensively. "But what do you think I am? You didn't want Dave helpin you cause he was all mopey and needed to get on with his life. So I stepped up to the plate cause let's face it, I'm an awesome friend and would do just about anything for family, but I can't do this forever."

"I don't need-" She stopped you by pressing her hand over your mouth. 

"Ah bah bah! No interruptions while the Rox is layin it out. I love ya, Dirk. You're not just my cousin, you're like my brother and some of the only family I got, but I can't do this forever. I've been helping you for several months now, and it's been a blast and all, but I gotta get back to my life sometime." You opened your mouth to say something, but she pressed her hand more firmly to your lips and cut you off. "I know, I know. You don't need any help. Well, here's the thing, babe. You do. You haven't been blind for most of your life. This is still a new thing, and you're still getting used to it. I know you're all independent and junk, but the fact of the matter is you should probably have someone around, and it would certainly make us all feel a lot better if you did. It just can't be me twenty-four-seven. Ya feel me?"

You had bristled, and you were standing tense and rigid, but you let her finish. 

"Now before you do a double back flip off the handle with that famous Strider stubbornness, could you do me a solid and just rationally think about what I've said? Sometimes it’s better to just let me get away with my crazy ideas, remember?" She paused and you realized she was waiting for some type of affirmative. You sighed and nodded your head. "Good."

She released your mouth and stepped back, clearly ready for you to protest. Several of them were flying around your head. You didn’t need any help. You could figure this out on your own. You never asked her to babysit you. You didn’t need her. 

But when you opened your mouth, a sigh escaped instead. You deflated. "Fine. I'll think about it."

A small, content sigh escaped her, barely audible. It was obviously a sigh of relief. "That's all I ask." She took your arm once again. "Now let's go get some cupcakes!"

With Roxy's gentle directions, you were back on course. Where exactly you were going? You didn't know. You just knew the destination. Before you lost your sight, you didn't know you'd ever move to this city. So there was little time to study a map. All you knew was what you experienced since you arrived. 

You exited the park. You knew this from the lessening of voices and the rise of engine rumbles. The vaguely green, yellow, and white glow of the plants in the park faded, no longer surrounding you in a comforting map of light. You were once again plunged into darkness, with the occasional figure to break up the darkness. 

"Are we there yet?" You asked again.

Roxy sighed, loudly and dramatically, she hung her weight on your arm. "No patience, Dirk. Absolutely no patience." 

"I am the perfect picture of patience." 

"Nice alliteration, dork. Lucky for you, we are here." She steered you away from the middle of the sidewalk, to a stop facing what you assumed was a store front. "Here we haaaaaave the Cupcaaaaaake Beast!"

The door opening was accented with the gentle chime of bells. Roxy ushered you through the door and immediately you were hit with the smells of baking: flour, sugar, chocolate, and vanilla. It was infinitely warmer inside, the heat from the ovens creating a cozy atmosphere. 

The sound of hurried footsteps, probably from the back kitchen, announced her presence. "Welcome to the Cupcake- Oh! Roxy! I didn't know you were stopping by!"

"Janeyyyy!" Roxy walked forward, tugging you along with a hand on your arm. "Surprise!"

"And who's this gentleman?"

"This is Dirk! My, uh...friend, I told you about! Dirk, say hi."

"Sup."

Roxy ushered you to a table, and the three of you took your seats. The bakery didn't have any customers, and Jane said she was willing to sit and chat while her most recent batch of cupcakes was in the oven. At Roxy's request, she brought you a red velvet cupcake, and it was bangin'. You were not ashamed of the sounds you made, and when you told her it was orgasmic, she laughed in a way that told you she was blushing. 

Jane was just as Roxy had described her: sweet, clever, old-fashioned, and fun. Her aura was the usual multi-colored spectrum that you had come to associate with faeries. Swirls of colors that twined and twisted beneath the translucent dominant color. Her dominate color was a fair and light blue, and it was strong, muting much of the under swirls that appeared to be more earthy tones. Her glamour was strong, to be able to hide that much of her fae energy. 

While you stuffed your face, Roxy and Jane fell into girl talk. A familiar friendly banter of catching up and skipping the pleasantries of small talk. You stayed quiet and listened, more than happy to just be out of the way. 

You learned that business had been good and that Jane was trying new recipes. You learned she had ordered a new oven to match her current one. You learned that her friend, some guy named Jake English, was coming to visit for the first time in years. And you learned that Jane and Roxy were planning a partnership between the Cupcake Beast and RoLa's, and that she had sent her little brother to deliver some samples to Rose. Apparently it had gone well. 

You wondered if her little brother was also fae, and if he went to RoLa's, had Dave seen him? He was on edge around faeries, unlike your cousin Rose who was dating one. But Dave hadn't mentioned any run-ins with faeries, glamoured or otherwise. Other than the night when he came home soaking wet and told you he had saved a girl from a kelpie trance. And even then you had had to pry the story from him. 

You felt your lips twist slightly as you gently placed your fork on the plate. Dave used to tell you everything. All the things he saw and heard. Now he didn't tell you anything. Part of you knew he just didn't want you to worry. He didn't want to drag you into the affairs of faeries again. Not after you explicitly said you wanted nothing to do with the fae. You didn’t care about them. But you did care about Dave. You knew he was trying to protect you, but you didn't need his protection. You didn't need anyone's protection. If anything, THEY needed YOU. You were the protector in this family, not the weak, disabled boy who needed to be catered to. 

You didn't NEED Dave to protect you from the fae. You didn't NEED Roxy to be with you everyday. And you didn't NEED a caretaker to babysit you while your family was busy. You hadn't gotten along just fine on your own after Bro died. You had taken care of Dave. Striders were strong. Striders took what life through at them in stride. Striders kept moving forward when life got hard. Striders could take care of themselves. And you were no exception.

You groped for and found your cane where you had propped it up against the table. "I'm going to get some air." You announced, pushing back your chair and standing. The scrape of it against the floor stopped their conversation. 

"Oh, kaaay," Roxy said slowly, obviously confused. "Dirk-"

"Don't worry about me. It was nice meeting you Jane." You were already headed for the door. You remembered the direction it was from the table. Your cane bumped against the wall, and your hand groped in front of you until you found the door handle. 

"Dirk-" You heard Roxy's chair scoot back. 

"I'll be fine." You waved a hand over your shoulder as you opened the door. To reassure her, you glanced over your shoulder, looking exactly where you knew she was, and smiled. "Trust me."

She made a whine in her throat that told you that she didn't quite trust you, but you were already stepping out onto the sidewalk and the door was already closing. 

You needed some air, and you wanted to prove to her that you could take care of yourself. You decided you were going to go back to the park. It seemed like as good of a place as any to just sit and clear your head. You'd text her once you got there, and she would be impressed that you made it there on your own. Maybe then she'd ditch this whole caretaker idea. 

You started back the way you had come. You could tell where sidewalks were based on where you saw people walking. It gave you a vague outline of the streets. People inside cars were more difficult to see. Just like you couldn't see through walls, you couldn't see through cars. You could see through windows though, and occasionally you saw a blur of muted light go by. Your cane tapped at the ground, sweeping before you, but your thoughts were elsewhere. It found a dip, an edge, and you knew you were at a curb. Someone was walking ahead of you so you assumed it was safe to cross. 

You didn't hear the horn until it was too late. 

Everything after that happened in a blur. You stepped into the street. There was the sound of brakes screeching. The smell of burning rubber against concrete. You thought you heard some people shouting, but they were drowned out by the overarching blare of a car horn. You froze, turning your head towards the sound. You realized it was getting louder, impossibly louder in just a matter of seconds. 

In the deep calm of knowledge that comes before an accident, you realized you were about to be hit by a car. A big one, by the sound of the horn. One going very fast, judging by how quickly the sound got louder. You thought you heard more shouting, closer this time, but you didn't give it much mind.

In those precious few seconds, you had four simultaneous thoughts. 

Roxy was going to kill you.

Dave would blame himself.

As far as last meals go, a cupcake was a pretty damn good one.

And you really shouldn't have left the apartment.

Then you were hit with a surprising amount of force. It knocked you off your feet, through the air, and you landed on your back on the concrete. The air was forced out of your lungs from the impact and from something landing on top of you. The weight pressed you down, rubbing your burning cuts and scrapes against the concrete. Your neck burned from what you could only assume was whiplash, but the impact on your head was a lot softer than you were expecting. Or maybe you had hit it so hard you were beyond pain or self-awareness. 

There were a lot of sounds around you, but they all seemed far away and muted. Your eyes half-lidded and staring upwards were filled with a greenish haze, a barely noticeable pattern of swirling yellow and gold beneath. You watched the swirls, transfixed, as your body fought to return to its senses. 

Dazed, confused, and in shock, your mind fought through the haze of your senses to bring one thought to the surface. You grasped at it, rethinking it over and over until it made sense. Then, finally, it fully formed.

You weren't hit from the direction the car was coming from. You had been hit from the front, when the sounds of the car had been coming from your right. 

The realization of that thought snapped you back into your senses with enough force to give you whiplash all over again. Your body burned and ached, but you weren't dead. Your head wasn't flat. There was something beneath it, keeping it from hitting the concrete. Something soft. And there was a weight on your chest and legs, warm and firm. 

The green light in front of you shifted, and you became aware of breath on your face. A deep rumble spoke, and you could feel it in your chest. It took you a moment to make sense of the words. 

"You okay, mate?"

You licked your lips, working your mouth to find your voice. When you did, it was hoarse but clear. 

"You're heavy as fuck." 

"Oh! Sorry!" The weight on your chest lifted and suddenly you could breath. You greedily filled your lungs, and it helped clear your mind. 

Someone was on top of you, his arm beneath your head. He had tackled you out of the way of the incoming car. He had more than likely saved your life.

"Who... are you?" You managed to ask. There were sounds everywhere. Voices. Cars. 

Somewhere in the distance, sirens. You ignored them all and focused on this one person.

You could practically feel the warmth of his smile. "Name's Jake. Jake English. I'd shake your hand, but I think it's best that we don't. I have a doozy of a cut on it, at the moment. Good thing the ambulance is almost here, eh? We should probably both go to the hospital to get checked out, but you seem to be fine. Golly, what an adventure!" 

Despite your aching lungs and the burn of your back. Despite that it hurt to move and pain hummed through every muscle and joint. Despite the haze that still clouded your mind. Despite the pain that radiated through your body. Despite it all, you laughed. 

Roxy was going to kill you.


	4. Games

Your name is John Egbert, and you were doing your best to keep your heartbeat at a reasonable and healthy speed. 

Unfortunately, your heart wasn't about to listen to you. It was going at a hundred miles an hour with no regard to whether your blood actually wanted to move through your veins that fast. You put a hand to your chest, like you could somehow physically hold it down. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. When you let it out, leaves across the walkway scattered. You glanced around, chewing your bottom lip, but no one noticed. 

Your hand fell from your chest and joined the other under your thighs. You slumped back against the bench, stretching one foot out in front of you while the other bent at the knee, bouncing rapidly. A Cupcake Beast Bakery box sat next to you. Your 3DS rested on top of it. You glanced at it just as the light turned green. You sat up quickly and looked around, eyes scanning up and down the walkway. No sign of him. You sighed, slumping back against the bench. Must have been a street pass from someone else. 

You glared at a kid several yards away, silently blaming him for getting your hopes up.  
For the past week, you and Dave had been texting incessantly. The night after you had left 

RoLa's, you had sat in your apartment, staring at your phone, debating whether or not to be the first to text him. You had started what felt like a million messages before deleting them all. Eventually, you gave up, threw your phone to the other side of the couch in dismay, and huddled up under a blanket to watch Ghost Dad. Halfway through the movie, your phone had buzzed, and your heart stopped when you realized it was Dave. 

Several messages had come in at once, and they were all relatively down to business, but they made you smile nonetheless: 

Dave: okay so you already know the verdict on the cheesecake and donut aka orgasmic  
Dave: like wtf is in that shit your sister must bake with crack  
Dave: thats not healthy dude  
Dave: anyways rose said the scone was delish which I dont get because wtf even is a scone  
Dave: chocolate cupcake with more chocolate was a-fucking-mazing  
Dave: there was probably eight metric fuck loads of crack in that one  
Dave: rose liked the chocolate croissant cause shes all about those froo froo fancy desserts  
Dave: and the cherry tart was better than expected  
Dave: like hella better  
Dave: i dont even know what a tart is and that shit had me on me knees worshipping the bakery gods for delivering that flakey sweet monstrosity unto my taste buds  
Dave: what im sayin is it was all good af and rose wants more  
Dave: and so do i as per our deal  
Dave: dont you dare flake on that john

After that, you had continued a conversation with him, sticking to the safety of the bakery subject. He called your lack of love for sugar a Greek tragedy and you called him the queen of drama queens. Conversation was slow, with long pauses between texts, to the point that you thought he might be reluctant to text you back. But he always did, eventually. 

You took the initiative the next day and texted him to ask how his brother was. You had heard from Jane that he had nearly been hit by a car right outside the bakery. He had been thrown out of the way by your cousin Jake. It seemed like a crazy coincidence, but Jade didn't seem all that surprised when she heard. She just smiled and said of course Jake would save him, just like you saved Dave. 

You told her that all her "destiny" stuff was baloney and she could shove it. It was all just coincidences. 

You were worried when you hadn't seen Dave in the park that morning, but he said his brother was fine, just badly bruised. You could tell from interpreting his rambling that he was upset by the whole thing. He, you gathered, was worried, but you also knew he wasn't going to admit it. Roxy was also upset, which you knew because Jane said Roxy nearly killed him after the accident. What peeved Dave the most was the fact that Rose was curiously calm over the whole thing. 

He was eager to talk to you about it, but once he had gotten it all out, conversation started to dwindle. Just when you were convinced he wouldn't text you back, he had. He had asked you what you were doing. You could still remember how time had stood still for a moment before your heart went at it double time. 

And just like that, the gates were open and the idea of safe subjects was thrown to the wind. 

You talked a lot that day. You had learned Dave had stayed home to be with his brother, who was acting weird as balls, in Dave's words. You convinced him to watch terrible movies on Netflix to pass the time, and laughed as you got live texts of his progress. 

For the next few days, the two of you talked off and on. And the times you weren't talking, you continuously glanced at your phone. It was like an addiction. An addiction that had started with you watching him in the park, to an addiction to texts. You had never been this attached to your phone. You had never felt this excited to talk to someone. It was exhilarating. And you were addicted to the high. 

You still followed him in the mornings, on his way to work. When he was wearing his hood, you liked to throw a gust of wind toward him to push it back. You tripped him a couple times, just to see what he would do. He was very good at regaining his balance. He also had this little habit of trying to step on crunchy looking leaves in his path, sometimes going a little out of his way to get them. Once you figured this out, it became a game of waiting until the last second to blow them out from under his foot. He took up the challenge, practically hopping after leafs that you pushed out of his way. When he managed to step on one, his half-smile was triumphant, as if he knew he won some silent game with a force he couldn't see. Like a chess match with mother nature.

Your favorite thing to do was to tap him on the shoulder. Most of the time he would look, and you would snicker when he found no one there. You weren't sure why he always fell for it.

While he was at work, you hovered around the city, drifting aimlessly on the wind. Occasionally you would land and glamour yourself up in order to get something to eat or wander around a store. Sometimes you would go see a movie, charming your way in for free, or go bother Karkat, wherever he happened to be. 

Dave sometimes texted you at work, but his responses were slow. It wasn't uncommon to see a faerie with a cellphone, but it certainly wasn't the norm. It was more common among the fae who spent half their lives in and around the humans. It was more rare for those who refused to co-mingle. You got a variety of looks from other fae when you drifted on the wind, phone in hand, but you paid them little mind. You didn't really put much stock into what other fae thought. As long as they didn't drag you into their business, you were fine. 

You checked your phone for the hundredth time, but just like every other time, still no text from Dave. You sighed and shoved it back in your pocket. Across the path, in the grass, there were some kids playing frisbee. Your hand, resting on the bench next to you, curled and twisted. A gust of wind picked up and the frisbee sharply moved just out of reach of the grasping hand. The boy made a sound of dismay as he missed and the frisbee landed on the ground a few feet away. His friends laughed and you smiled. 

"Okay, let's get right down to it. I've only got an hour to prove to you that I'm the Smash master, and you're just a jealous scrub."

His voice was close and jarred you from your thoughts. You jumped, sitting up straight and whipping your head around. Dave was standing just behind the bench. His headphones were resting around his neck instead of on his ears, and in both hands he held a Starbucks coffee cup. 

One eyebrow lifted over the rim of his shades. "Geez, Egbert, you look like you've seen a ghost. Not used to people sneaking up on you?" There was an amused tilt to his lips. 

"Pff, whatever, Dave." You snorted and rolled your eyes, trying to regain your composure. As it happens, no, you weren't used to people sneaking up on you. You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back against the bench. "I just wasn't expecting you to come that way."

"How would you know which way I usually come?" He asked.

You were thankful for the use of fae magic and glamour to hide the blush that rose to your cheeks. You waved a hand toward the path. "I just assumed you'd take the walkway."

"Mhmm, well you know what they say about assuming. Don't make an ass of me, John." 

You snorted a laugh. "You do that just fine on your own."

"Ouch, you got me." Instead of walking around the bench like any normal person, he stepped over it, putting a foot on the back, stepping up and down onto the seat before stepping down again to the ground. He sat and held out one of the coffee cups. "Anyway, sorry I'm late." Now that his amusement had faded, he sounded...awkward. He shifted on the bench and, though it was hard to tell because of his shades, you got the feeling he was avoiding looking at you. "Dirk took forever and a day in the bathroom this morning. Of course he starts taking care of his personal hygiene again when I decide to leave early. But at least I brought Starbucks. Just don't tell Rose I'm cheating on her."

You grinned and took the offered cup. "Thanks! And I promise to keep your coffee affair a secret." You cradled it between two hands, absorbing the warmth of both the coffee and the gesture. "What is it?" You asked, sniffing curiously.

He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He took a sip from his own cup. "Well I got myself a cappuccino, cause that shit's delicious. All I know about how you like your coffee is no sugar. But plain coffee is boring, so I got you a PSL instead, light on the sweetener."

He may have been avoiding looking at you, but you were watching him. And you could have sworn his cheeks pinked a little at this last part. Your grin hadn't faded, but you forced it down a little bit. "A pumpkin spice latte?" You knew about the seasonal hipe, but you'd never tried one. You took a curious sip. "Hmmmm..." You hummed appreciatively and held the cup out, nodding slightly and ignoring the fact that your glasses had fogged up a little.

When you turned to look at Dave, he was staring. The look he was giving you was strange, and on you couldn't place without seeing his eyes. 

He cleared his throat and looked away, taking a sip of his own drip to cover his mouth. "Figured you'd be basic, Egbert."

You made a face at him, glaring, frowning, and sticking out your tongue. "Whatever, Dave. At least I taste."

"The taste of a fifteen year old girl, maybe. What's next? You gonna start wearing leggings?"

You stuck out your chin. "Maybe I will."

He coughed, and you were sure if it was a laugh or not. "Anyway, are we gonna do this shit or what?"

"Yes!" You sat up a little straight and grabbed your DS. "Prepare for imminent failure!"

"Psh, I'm the king of Smash. You're gonna get your ass kicked to hell and back." He pulled his DS from his pocket, and you weren't at all surprised that it was red. 

The Smash Bros rivalry had started several days ago, when it came up in the conversation of what games you both played. You played online together, of course, but you wanted an excuse to play with him in person. You got that chance when you accused him of cheating after he won several games in a row. He asked how he could possibly cheat, to which you replied that you didn't know, but you wouldn't be satisfied until you saw him playing and could be assured that it was indeed him. 

And that was how you found yourself with Dave, on a bench in the park, playing Smash Bros. 

You played Wii Fit Trainer and he chose Peach. He made fun of your choice, but said his was classic and "ironic." You didn't get it. 

"Stop hanging on the edge." Dave demanded.

You chuckled. "Nope." Your favorite strategy was to hang off the edge, jump up and throw a soccer ball, heal, and hang on the edge again. This was your favorite mostly because it annoyed Dave. 

"Goddammit, Egbert. Come over here and fight me like a woman!"

"Make me." You glanced over at him out of the corner of your eye. His full attention was on his DS, and the tip of his tongue peeked out from between his lips, playing with his round lip piercing. Your own tongue subconsciously felt over the spot where the metal burn had long since healed. Your eyes were drawn to his ear as the sunlight reflected off the metal there. Two lobe piercings and an industrial bar. 

"HA!" He shouted triumphantly and you jerked back to your screen. You had only been distracted for a moment, but that was long enough for him to sent you off screen, taking your last life. 

Your lips twisted into a frown. "Best two out of three?"

He tossed his head a little, moving fallen hair off his sunglasses. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you." 

"Don't say I didn't warn YOU."

He snorted. "Nice comeback, Egbert."

You inhaled deeply and huffed the exhale. A small, short breeze hit him in the back of the head and pushed his hair down in front of his eyes. He frowned and tossed his head again, using his hand to smooth it back. You smiled.

This time you chose Duck Hunt Dog, and he chose Shulk. 

The two of you drew attention as you sat on the bench playing Smash Bros and yelling obscenities at each other. Mothers glared at you, tugging on their children's hands to urge them to walk faster. Meanwhile kids watched you in awe. Teenagers sneered at you, and college aged students gave you small smiles of appreciation and envy.

But it wasn't the eyes of humans that you paid attention to. The fae frequented the park. It was a big area and filled with more nature than metal. Mostly, you ignored them and they ignored you. That was the way of the fae. Court fae looked down their noses at you, but gave you little more regard than the dirt on their feet. Other solitary fae ignored you as well, eager to be about their own business. But there wasn't anything strange about a wayward wind sprite floating around the park and causing minor mischief. 

There WAS something odd about a wind sprite in glamour sitting on a bench with a human and playing DS. Like phones, there were some fae who embraced human technology, and there were some who hated it. 

While it was easy to ignore the world and just be lost in playing games with Dave, you couldn't help but be hyper aware of your surroundings. You listened to the wind, and it carried to you the whispers of fae and human alike. Most were harmless, and you tuned these out. But occasionally you would glance up and catch the eye of a faerie, watching you with expressions ranging from disgust to disinterest. You tried not to make eye contact for too long. Just long enough to make yourself seem capable and not weak. 

The fae picked on the weak.

But there was one thing you couldn't ignore, and that was the general feeling of animosity and hatred that radiated from the river. You noticed it the day after Dave had saved your neighbor from the kelpie's trance. Whenever Dave was in the park, or near the river, the kelpie seemed to know, and sent waves of hostility outward. You had seen other fae notice it as well. Everyone shied from the river whenever Dave was around. You noticed it with you, too, but to a much lesser extent. Mostly, it was aimed at Dave. He gave no indication that he could feel it, but occasionally you would catch sight of the hair on his neck and arms standing up, and you could swear he was oddly stiff. 

You had purposefully chosen a bench far away from the river, but even though it wasn't in sight, you could still feel vague waves of anger from the kelpie. You suppressed a shiver and glanced at Dave. He didn't seem to notice and was fully absorbed in the game. 

Dave was your friend. As strange as it sounded even in your own mind, you did consider Dave a friend. A new friend, but a friend nonetheless. And it had been a long time since you had a new one of those. The kelpie obviously meant him harm, and that was all the more reason to stick close whenever he was near the river. 

You looked back to your game in time to see him charging you. You jumped up and flew safely out of the way just in time. 

"You're gonna lose again if you keep staring at me like that." He said, startling you.  
You glanced at him again, but he was still staring down at his game. Then again, it was hard to tell with those stupid sunglasses. The corner of his lip twitched upward, and you felt your cheeks flush. Luckily, you could easily hide your blush with your glamour. You pressed your lips together and looked back at your DS. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." You stated as calmly as you could.

"Yeah, sure you don't." You could hear his smile. "What's up? Do I got something in my teeth?"

"No, just a spider in your hair."

"What-" He nearly dropped his DS as he jumped to his feet, one hand flying to his hair, frantically bashing it around in an attempt to throw off a spider. 

You laughed as your character threw his off the stage, taking his last life. You grinned up at him. "Just kidding."

His smile had faded into a frown and he plopped back down on the bench. "Oh, so that's how we're gonna play it?" 

"You should have seen your face, Dave!" You said, still chuckling. 

"Best two out of three, Egbert." He reminded you. "Prepare yourself."

"Pff, bring it on, Dave." 

He chose Ike. You chose Robin.

The game progressed as usual. Stock. Five lives. He lost his first life. Then you. Then, while your damage was high, he charged you. Just before you could retaliate, he bumped your arm with his elbow. The sudden touch surprised you and threw you off. He sword slapped you right off the map.

You stared at your game, open-mouthed. Then looked at him. He smirked.

"Told you to prepare yourself."

You slowly closed your mouth, then smiled. "Oh, it is ON like Donkey Kong."

When damage was high, you threw your body at his and stretched out your arms, blocking his DS with yours. It was just enough to secure a KO. 

As you continued to fight, you were ready for jostling and bumping. What you weren't prepared for, was for him to reach out and grab your side. Your eyes opened wide and a half-strangled squeak came from your throat. You jumped, nearly dropping your DS. Dave was smirking with far more satisfaction than was due. You resisted the urge to slap at him. Or knock his shades off his smug face.

"Tickling?" You asked as your character respawned.

He shrugged. "Gotta do what you gotta do." 

"Are you ticklish, Dave?" You asked flatly, conversationally. You already knew he was. 

"No." He didn't sound convincing. 

You chased him around the map, dodging his sword swings and throwing fire at him, occasionally using your up special to hit him with wind strikes. You slowly got his damage up, then you moved to attack. 

Dave made a strange grunting sound and nearly threw himself off the bench trying to get away from your hand. You didn't actually get to tickle him, but the scare was enough. You smashed him with your lightning sword and sent him flying. 

"Okay, no more tickling." Dave grunted, shifting back into place on the bench. 

"Fine."

Next you threw a leg up over his lap, twisting in your seat to do so. This surprised him, but he recovered quickly. You tried to get your leg up over his arms to push his DS down, but he lifted his arms high above him, tilting his head back to look at the screen. You laid down on the bench, using your other foot to try to wrestle his arms out of the way and distract him. He twisted to the side, avoiding you. 

For all this effort, you ended up hitting a nearby bomb and you both lost a life.

You both laughed, that is, until you realized how strange a position you were in. Realizing you were all but sitting in his lap, you coughed and shifted away, sitting up and putting your feet back on the ground. 

"If you wanted in my lap, all you had to do was ask." He teased, making your fae cheeks blush bright blue. You hunched your shoulders. 

"Whatever, Dave."

Down to one life each, you both leaned forward in your seats, focused on your screens, but alert for what the other might try to pull. You dodged each other all over the map, exchanging a few minor attacks. Somehow, as the damage percents rose, you found yourself flush against Dave's side, subtitling shoving him. He was pushing back. Shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, you pushed at each other, trying to throw the other off balance.

Then a smash ball appeared on stage, and you both dove for it, smashing it around and jumping after it. You think you put your head to his first, but you weren't completely sure. You just know he got the smash ball and was chasing you around, and the two of you had your heads turned sideways, pushing your temples together. Your glasses bumped against his shades. 

He nearly had you cornered when your heads slipped and his ear pressed against your cheek.

You squealed in surprised pain as his piercings burned against your skin. You jumped away, hand flying to your cheek. You could have sworn you had heard the metal sizzle faintly against your flesh. And was it just you, or could you smell it? Your DS clattered to the ground when you stood abruptly. You looked from it to Dave. He was sitting there, staring up at you through his tinted lenses, his mouth hung open just a little in surprise. 

"Uh, a bee...startled me...heh." You said sheepishly. You forced your hand to drop from your cheek. It burned, and the pain radiated through your face, making your eyes water. You hid the marks with your glamour, but you still wanted to cradle it in your hand. Your hands were shaking with the shock of it.

You bent down to pick up your DS, and when you looked at Dave again, his lips were pressed together in a thin, unreadable line. 

"I should probably go anyway. I'm late for work." He stood, closing his DS and putting it in his pocket. 

"Oh, um, yeah." He walked past you, coffee in one hand. "Rematch, sometime?"

He paused, but he didn't look at you. Finally, he nodded. "Sure."

"Oh! And these!" You picked up the pastry box that had been sitting next to you, forgotten.  
You hurried toward him and held it out. "More for you and Rose to try."

"Thanks." He mumbled. He turned and hurried away. You watched him go, a worried frown on your lips. You didn't understand. Did you scare him away? Or had he just realized the time? You were having fun. What happened? HE wasn't the one who had been burned. And it wasn't like he knew he had hurt you.

You rubbed your cheek absently as you watched him walk away. You could feel the indents and raised edges. Your skill still felt warm. 

Dave's shoulders looked stiff as he walked away.

You shoved your DS in your pocked and turned back to the bench, grabbing your PSL. You chugged what you could, and threw the rest of it in the trash. Then you sprinted to a nearby cluster of trees. Once you were sure you were out of the public eye, you shed your human glamour and took to the air. Dave hadn't gotten far. His pace had slowed.

You hovered above him, chewing your bottom lip. You wished you could read minds. 

He stopped abruptly and half-turned, looking back the way he had come. You, of course, were no longer there. His brow furrowed and he frowned. Sighing, he reaching into his pocket for his phone. You lowered a little in order to hover close behind him, reading over his shoulder. It was a text to you.

Dave: sorry i had to go dude lets do it again sometime

He pressed send and tucked his phone away once again, continuing his walk. You grinned, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket. You felt immense relief knowing Dave wasn't mad at you.

But your relief was short lived. As Dave passed a cluster of trees, you noticed a couple ogres standing on the other side. You recognized one as the one who had led your neighbor to the kelpie. They were glaring at Dave, watching his every step. 

Next to them was a fae you didn't recognize. The ogres looked fairly similar, as ogres do. But the third fae stood out. His skin was gray, and his ears formed small fins. His black hair was spiked back, a streak of purple running through it. What made him stand out the most, however, was the plethora of gold jewelry. Rings, necklaces, bracelets. The guy was loaded. And you knew they had to be relatively pure gold. Any metal that contained iron burned. 

You knew from his skin that he was a high court fae. Just like Karkat.

He watched Dave with an air of impatience and indifference. His arms crossed over his chest, he looked bored and mildly annoyed. Once Dave had passed, he looked away and waved a hand at the ogres, saying something you couldn't quite make out before turning and walking away. You flew forward a few more feet, revealing more fae who hid behind the shrubs and trees. A small entourage of faeries. Their skins and hair were all sorts of colors, some with claws and some with fins. All held the barely concealed malice and indifference of court fae. All of them turned as a group and followed the high fae away, the ogres sending one last look over their shoulders at Dave's receding back. 

You could have sworn they smiled. 

A shiver ran down your spine. You didn't know what it meant, but it couldn't be good. Court fae never meant good news.

You sped forward on a gust of wind to Dave's side. You hovered there as he walked, looking around for any more fae. None that you saw paid much attention to you. But the radiating hatred was strong as the path Dave took passed in view of the river. You risked a glance toward the water and froze as you locked eyes with the kelpie. The dark, horse-like head barely broke the surface, but he stood out in stark contrast with the sun glittering against the water. His eyes were red, even from this distance. You quickly looked away, moving to hover between Dave and the river. 

Instead of stopping at the edge of the park, you followed him all the way to RoLa's. And you refused to leave until you saw the heavy oak and iron door shut. He would be safe in there. RoLa's didn't exactly welcome faeries, even those seeking out mischief. Nailed to the thick oak doorframe was an old iron horseshoe. You didn't know much about fae lore, but you vaguely remembered Jade once telling you horseshoes were once thought to ward off faeries. 

You wondered if Rose did that on purpose. 

Rose, with her fae tattoo, would be safe from harm either way. It was forbidden to mess with a claimed human.

That...actually gave you an idea.

You glanced from RoLa's, to the park, and back again. You didn't know much about the process, or how the bond worked. But if it could keep Dave safe...

You took to the skies, letting the wind lift you high above the buildings before turning toward the forested hills just outside of town. There, on the highest hill, towering above the trees, stood an observatory. And that was where Jade lived. If anyone knew how to keep Dave safe, and how to stay safe from the court fae, it was Jade.

_________________________________________________________________________  
Your name is Dave Strider, and you were so, totally, fucked.

The reason for you being fucked was one John Egbert. The most adorable little buck-toothed asshole. You leaned your back against the door of RoLa's, rubbing your temples with one hand. You could still see the way his white cheeks flushed blue, and the way his every thought showed in his wide eyes.

You had a crush on a mother. Fucking. Faerie.

You were so screwed.


	5. Beefcake

Your name is Jake English, and you could hardly believe your luck. You had found a job opportunity so quickly.

Of course, Jane had offered you a paid position in her cupcake establishment, but you didn't exactly have a hand at baking. You supposed you could have, and would have, manned the register, but where was the adventure in that? Granted, there wasn't much adventure to be had in being a nanny for a grown man, but there was certainly more than working a typical nine-to-five and feeling like another cog in the industry machine. 

Of course, you weren't about to tell Jane that. You could just see her now, fists clenched around a large wooden spoon, eyes blazing with both defensive fire and barely held back tears as she told you off. Owning a business was her dream, not yours. 

She had been very excited about the prospects of working with you, and you had been wondering just how you were going to turn her down. Then, as if by a miracle, the opportunity presented itself. And it was one Jane certainly could understand. She, after all, had the reassurances of Roxy, and after the incident outside her bakery, she could easily see that your help was probably needed. She couldn't very well get mad at you for helping a blind man in need, could she?

As strange as being a nanny sounded, you were rather excited about it. You loved the prospect of not having to work in a typical work setting, dealing with customers, and wearing stifling uniforms. Next to that, spending your days watching over a blind man, doing a little housework, maybe some errands, and overall just relaxing with someone who you hoped might become a friend seemed like a much better deal. 

"That's obvs the kitchen." Roxy was saying, waving a dismissive hand at the kitchen in question. "That's obvs the living room." She waved her other hand opposite the kitchen. The living room sported a cozy looking leather couch, and two matching, comfortable looking chairs. A coffee table, covered in chip bags and game controllers, stood in front of the couch, and everything faced the rather complex entertainment system with a large TV. The wall on the opposite end of the living room was mostly glass windows, as well as a sliding door that led to a balcony that overlooked the city. The Strider apartment was on the top floor of their building and had a wonderful view. It was a shame the elder Strider couldn't see it.

"Back here we have Dirk's rooms." Roxy led him past the kitchen and living room into a small hallway. There was a room to the right and one to the left. She waved a hand to the right and you peered past her into the open doorway. "That's Dirk's room. He's got a bathroom in there, too. And over here is Dirk's office slash workroom slash junk room."

"It's not junk." You heard Dirk say loudly, and you peered over your shoulder at the blond man sitting on the couch. He lounged, feet on the coffee table and fingers idly tapping the arm rest. His head was facing across the room at the blank TV, but you had no doubt that he was listening intently. 

"Right, no junk, his 'lively-hood'." She used air quotes at this and rolled her eyes. She continued in a softer voice. "It's his junk pile. He hasn't really worked on any projects since, you know..." She trailed off and waved a hand in front of her eyes to indicate what she meant. 

You lowered your voice, hoping he couldn't hear. Is he able...to, you know, work?"

Roxy waved your concerns away. "Oh yeah, he's perfectly capable. He's just a LAZY BUTT." She said these last two words loudly, to ensure he could hear. You heard a vague grunt from his direction.

You shifted to look past her into the room. It had a desk with an elaborate computer set up, several tables, and several crates and boxes. There were pieces of scrap metal, wires, and tools here and there, but it seemed like most of the "junk" Roxy referred to was still boxed up. 

"Fascinating." You mumbled, a little in awe at the mysterious boxes. 

"But enough about Dirk, he's boring." Roxy grabbed your arm and towed you back into the living room, pushing you into one of the chairs. She sat on the coffee table, crossed her legs, and leaned back on her hands. "Tell us about you. I can't entrust Dirky-poo here to just anyone."

You smiled at this and glanced at Dirk. He wore his ridiculous triangular sunglasses, but you could still tell he was glaring. 

"Um, what about those rooms?" You asked, pointing toward the small hall opposite the apartment from Dirk's. 

"Just Dave's room and bathroom." Dirk said, surprising you. You had expected Roxy to answer. 

"Oh, right-o. That would make sense, now wouldn't it?" You gave a soft, nervous laugh. 

Both Dirk and Roxy had very imposing presences. Very intense. Like they could somehow see beyond your face and into your heart and soul. Roxy's eyes, normally friendly and welcoming, turned piercing as their pink gaze turned on you. You had never seen eyes like that. Dirk's eyes were hidden, and even if they weren't, they couldn't see you. Yet when he turned his head toward you, you got the ridiculous feeling of being watched. 

They were both staring at you now, and you shifted in your seat, trying to subtly wipe your palms on your shorts. "Right." You said, trying to fill the silence. "What would you like to know?"

"You're Janey's cousin, right?" Roxy asked, and you nodded, then paused, tilted your head, and vaguely waved your hands around in the air.

"More or less. I'm not really sure how we're related. Our family is a doozy of a cluttered mess. But I do know we are related. Cousin is just the easiest way to put it."

"And what brings you here?" Roxy leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and propping her head up on one first. Her eyes never left your face. 

"You asked me here." You said blankly.

Roxy rolled her eyes. "Not here. HERE. To this city."

"Oh, well, you see, previously I had been roaming about the countryside with my dearly departed grandma. With her gone, I was a bit lost for what to do and whatnot. Jade suggested I come see about making a living here."

Suggested was putting it mildly. She had all but demanded and ordered you to come here. You were taken aback by her sudden urgency that you come to live with her in the city. You hadn't really thought about settling anywhere. You wanted to continue your adventuring, just as you knew your grandma would want. But Jade had insisted. She said just for a few years, to be near family. She promised it would be worth your while. And, you supposed, you had felt a little lonely and hankering for some company.

You weren't sure what she had meant by it being worth your while, but it was a good thing she had baited you here. Golly, who knows what would have happened if you hadn't arrived when you did. Dirk very well might have made a bloody mess of the road. He certainly wouldn't be sitting on the couch next to you, a vague smirk curving his lips. 

"Jade?" Roxy asked, an eyebrow raising.

"My other cousin." You clarified. 

"Mhmmm..." Roxy hummed, obviously thinking about something, but you were at a loss to guess what. "Can you cook? Are you allergic to anything? Do you know CPR? Do you know the number for 911? Are you comfortable ordering a pizza? If Dirk falls down the stairs and no one's around to hear, will you still be willing to give him mouth-to-mouth?"

You blinked and stiffened at these rapid fire questions. You leaned your head back against the chair, as if you could somehow put a few more inches between you and Roxy. You opened your mouth, but only an uncertain, confused sound came out. You scrambled for words, but Dirk saved you the trouble.

He cleared his throat, drawing Roxy's attention. You felt yourself relax when those eyes left you. "I think we're done with the interview."

Roxy frowned and pushed out her bottom lip. "I just want to know if he's capable of taking care of poor pitiful you."

"He saved my life, didn't he?"

"He pushed you out of the way of a car. I need to know if his big strong arms can carry you up the stairs if you fall. If they can sweep you off your feet and toss you onto the-"

Dirk cut her off by lifting a foot and ramming his heel into her thigh. But instead of getting angry, she grinned, giggling. 

You watched this exchange, baffled. Pulling yourself from your stupor, you felt like you had to say something. Assert your manliness, for that's what Roxy seemed to be testing.

"I assure you, these guns are top notch!" You said, mustering your confidence. You sat up straight and held up one arm, flexing for her approval. They weren't exactly the best guns in the shop, but they got the job done. Years of climbing over the country side and outdoor activity had seen to that. The sleeve of your t-shirt strained slightly as your muscles bulged in full flex. 

You glanced up to see you had caught both their attentions. Roxy was eyeing you, a mischievous glint in her bright pink eyes. Her eyebrows were raised and her lips parted slightly. Dirk was also turned toward you, smirking.

You patted your arm proudly. Your manliness would not be questioned! "I may not be a brutish bench presser, but these dandies can get the job done."

"See, Rox?" Dirk said, waving a hand in your direction. "He's perfectly capable of sweeping me off my feet."

Roxy's lips curved into a bright smile as she glanced at Dirk before turning back to you. Her eyes were still bright, but her smile dropped to something more quizzical. "They certainly LOOK impressive, but can they really get the job done?" She sighed loudly and laid a hand on Dirk's knee, patting him gently. "Poor Dirk is blind, as you know, and he had a terrible habit of tripping and falling." She put the back of her hand to her forehead, full of woe. "Even I can't help him then. It's terrible. I want to know for certain that you'll be able to take care of him if that happens."

Her voice was pitiful enough, but there was something gleaming in her eyes. Unshed tears perhaps? She really cared for Dirk, and she must be worried that he would hurt himself in her absence.

"Roxy..." Dirk said, voice full of caution. His smirk had faded.

She ignored him. "If only there was a way to know for sure..."

Never one to disappoint a lady. You took the chance and leapt to your feet. "Fear not, milady! I'll prove I'm up to the task! Come here, Dirk!"

The blond man had just enough time to utter a startled "Wha-" before it was cut off by a surprised "Oomf!" as you took a few steps toward him, took hold of his arm, and pulled him to his feet. Before either of them could say much more, you bent, using Dirk's arm to guide him over one shoulder, wrapped a study arm around the back of his knees, and stood straight, heaving him over your shoulder as you did so. A standard fireman's hold, you thought.

The man uttered a muffled "Fuck" as you hoisted him upward. A strange, high pitched sound escaped Roxy and you turned round, giving her a wide grin. Your legs were starting to shake already with the strain, and you fought to keep your balance. Overall, he was much heavier than you had anticipated. He looked thin, but he was heavy and his body was hard. Not bone hard, but muscle hard. Still, you kept one arm around his legs, elbow up to help him balance, and put the other on your hip. You beamed at Roxy, and she grinned back, biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

She didn't succeed. Several giggles burst from her mouth, though she stifled them with her hands. 

You supposed it was quite amusing. You, a full grown man of twenty-five years, suddenly hoisting up an even taller man of twenty-some years over your shoulder like a sack of raw potatoes. You were trying to prove a point, that you could take care of Dirk should he need this sort of assistance, but you could still see the humor in it. And you were determined to see it through. 

Roxy's giggles encouraged you, and you ignored the cursing going on behind you. For Dirk had recovered from his surprise and was beginning to protest. 

"See?" You said, still beaming. "He's quite a handful, but I can handle him."

"Oh, I'm sure you can." Roxy said, with some suggestion and waggling eyebrows, but the meaning was lost on you. "Hold on, this is just too good. I need a pic ASAP."

"Don't you dare." Dirk snapped from behind you, but Roxy was already pulling out her phone. She held up the phone to you, and you grinned for the camera. 

"Roxy, no." Dirk's voice held much authority, but the effect was lost. You felt him squirming, and he put a hand on your back to prop himself up higher, straightening his legs to be straighter, so he could see over your head at his friend. You wrapped both arms around his legs to steady him and shifted your feet to adjust to his weight. You weren't sure how long you could keep this up, but you kept up the bravado. "Put that shit down right now."

"Say cheese, Dirk." Her phone made a shutter sound. "Dave and Rose are going to love this." 

"You better fucking not."

"Oh, I am. Can't stop me, Dirk. The pic is in cyber space now, lost from my grip and left in the hands of cyber fate."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Jake, put me down." He used that demanding tone again, doing a damn fine job at retaining his dignity, and you were inclined to listen, but Roxy's look stopped you.

"No can do, lad-o." You said, giving him a friendly pat. You had MEANT to pat his thigh. But he had started to squirm, and your firm pat landed squarely on his rump. Realizing your mistake, you felt your cheeks warm, but the effect worked and he stopped squirming. So you patted a few more times, acting like that was indeed what you had meant to do. "I'm afraid I can't put you down until the lady is satisfied that I can do a bang up job."

"Yeah, Dirk! Don't be a party pooper. Jake just wants to do a bang job. He just wants to prove to me he can bang-"

"Oh my fucking god." He sounded strained. "Jake, she's not your employer. I am."

"Nonetheless, this ship has sailed and we might as well stay its course." 

He sighed, and you could hear the resignation in it. He was propping himself up with a hand on your back and shoulder. You could feel the warmth of him. 

"At least carry me like the princess I am." He said, back to his usual air of confidence. "It's dizzying as fuck to be blind and upside down. What are you, a hero or a barbarian?" 

"Oh! Of course, mate! I didn't think of that." With some difficulty, you and Dirk both squirmed and shifted until he had moved from over your shoulder and into your arms. You had to use your knee a little to hoist him into a better grip, with one arm under his knees, and the other under his shoulder. 

"Now this is more like it." Dirk said with satisfaction as he relaxed into your arms. He wrapped his own loosely around your neck. You grinned down at him. He was big and awkward in your arms, and without splitting his weight between your arms and back he was heavier, but he looked so at ease and amused. So you supposed it was worth it. "Alright, I'm ready for my close up." He turned his head in the direction of Roxy.

She already had her camera up. "Say cheese, princess." 

"Mother fuckin' cheese." He said, giving her a thumbs up while you grinned. 

"Now that is precious." 

"Damn straight, I am." He patted your chest. "You're not too bad yourself, English." 

"My thanks, Strider."

"I think..." Roxy began, tapping a delicate finger on her chin. "You should carry him to the bedroom. Put him on his bed. That's what you would probably have to do if he actually fell, right?"

"Right-o! Come on, mate. This'll be over lickety split!" You whirled on your heels, staggered as his weight swung, and you had to take a few steps to regain your balance. You held him close, and he instinctively tightened his grip around your neck.

"Steady there, English. Precious cargo, here." He said and rested his head on your shoulder. You could feel his breath as a warm spot through your shirt.

The first few steps were difficult, and your legs shook, but you think you hid it well. It was a slow walk, but you were careful with your cargo as you headed for the bedroom. Roxy followed behind you, giggling. 

"Roxy." Dirk said with a forced air of calm. "My first royal decree is for you to shut thy pie hole."

"I didn't say anything!" Roxy protested, but there was laughter in her voice.

"Yeah, well you're thinking it loud enough. Do you have your camera out again?"

"No." But the sound of more camera shutters contradicted her. "Dirk, stop flipping off the camera."

"Don't worry, mate, we're almost there!" You assured him, stepping into his room. It was just a few more steps to the large bed, where you tried, and failed, to lay him down gently. You stood straight, putting your hands on your hips and ignoring the throbbing ache in your back and relief in your arms. "There." You declared. "The princess is safe!"

Dirk, still laying where you had plopped him, threw his arms in the air. "Hallelujah." 

You turned to Roxy. "Have your fears been quelled?"

"Oh yes," She said, grinning at Dirk on the bed and taking another picture. "Quite quelled. I'm all quelled up. Queen of quelled. What about you, Dirky-poo? Is he hired?"

Dirk, still laying on his back, lifted both hands and gave a double thumbs up.

"Excellent!" You exclaimed.

"Come on, Jake." Roxy said, tugging on your arm. She was still grinning from ear to ear. "I got a few more things to show and tell before I hand over my post." 

As she pulled you toward the door, you hesitated and glanced over your shoulder. You weren't sure how Dirk knew you were looking at him, but he seemed to sense it and waved a dismissive hand in your direction.

"Don't worry about me. I'm just gonna take a moment to powder my nose, and then I'll be out to give my hero his reward kiss."

A surprise laugh escaped you, and you rubbed the back of your neck with your free hand, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks. "Ha, you're a riot, mate!" 

You let Roxy drag you from the room, trying to keep your blush in check.

_________________________________________________________________________  
Your name is Dirk Strider, and you didn't actually need to powder your nose.

After being unceremoniously dumped on your bed, you had laid there for about an hour, trying to regain your composure. You think you had hid it well, but internally, you were screaming.

You could hear Roxy and Jake in the other room, chatting as if nothing had happened. She told him about where she went for groceries, where the numbers for emergencies were located, your favorite take-out places, and everything else that Jake would possibly need to know when it came to being your caretaker. 

You tried to block out both of their voices. Roxy's made you flush with embarrassment, and Jake's made you flush with... something else. 

You weren't one to get easily embarrassed. As a Strider, you had learned how to reign in your emotions from an early age. You were normally calm, cool, and collected. Even when the fae had come at you with the intent to take your sight, you had remained outwardly calm and hadn't struggled. You were a master of emotions and a master of yourself.

But there was something about Jake English that was alarmingly disarming. 

He was unpredictable. One moment invading your personal space, and the next standing at a gentlemanly distance. Touching without reserve, yet seeing nothing more than innocence in it. Usually this sort of personal invasion wasn't welcomed, but with Jake, it was different. Maybe it was because he saved your life. Maybe it was the fact that his outgoing personality was mingled with clueless abandon. Maybe it was simply because it had been a long time since you were involved with anybody, and Jake was, or at least sounded, attractive.

He intrigued you and held your attention more than anything else as of late. 

There was also the question of who he was. Or better yet, WHAT he was. He was related to Jane, a fae, so logically he would also be fae. But whereas Jane chose to ignore her fae origins, Jake seemed altogether oblivious of it. You had spent time staring at his aura, that strange mix of human and fae, and you couldn't figure it out. 

You had sworn to stay out of fae business. You wanted nothing to do with it. But Jake wasn't like any fae you had ever seen. He was a puzzle you wanted to solve.  
And the most puzzling thing of all was the small spark of electricity you felt when the two of you touched. It was small, slight, and something that could be easily disregarded. But you had never been one to disregard anything. You noticed it. You felt it. And you didn't know what it meant.

But you wanted to find out.

So after you had been picked off the pavement; examined by the paramedics; taken to the hospital; diagnosed with just bruises, whiplash, and road rash; been visited by Jane and Jake with sympathy cupcakes; got a better introduction to the man who had saved your life; and crammed in Roxy's tiny pink Volkswagen beetle with Dave and Rose in the backseat, you had announced to them that you wanted Jake English as your caretaker. 

You and Roxy had visited him at the Cupcake Beast a couple times since then. You had asked him out for coffee two days ago, and you had proposed your idea to him. He had been more than willing to take you up on your offer, which had surprised you. You would have thought, for a guy like Jake, or anyone really, keeping an eye on a twenty-six year old blind dude wasn't exactly high on the job list. But he had been excited. 

Today was the first time he had ever been to your apartment, and you had Roxy clean up especially for the occasion. You had helped, or tried, until Roxy had gotten fed up with your attempts and sent you away. Instead, you had spent most of your time in the bathroom. Showering, shaving, doing your hair. All very carefully as you tried to be presentable. 

All the while wondering why you cared.

You tried not to think about that too hard.

You weren't sure you were ready for the answer just yet.

Everything had been going fine. One moment the three of you were taking, then suddenly Jake was on his feet, his green aura coming toward you. Reaching for you. Then you were pulled off the couch and lifted off your feet. You hadn't been picked up since you were a kid. And you hadn't realized just how disorienting being upside down was when you couldn't see anything. The greenish gold of his aura filled your vision, and the warmth of him, the firmness of his grip, was the only thing that had steadied you.

You COULD have gotten down. You knew that. You COULD have. But you didn't. You had let the game, the joke, go on. And when he shifted you into his arms, you had felt... well, you had felt feelings that you had thought were long since dormant. Comfort, security, excitement, arousal, and a twinge of embarrassment. 

You hadn't felt embarrassed in a long, long time. You were never embarrassed about anything. Everything you did was executed with the cool confidence of one who didn't give a fuck what other people thought. And you didn't. You had been through and seen so much. You knew who you were, and you were damn proud. You owned your actions, and so embarrassment was never something you felt.

But you had felt it when Jake picked you up and control slipped through your figurative fingers. 

He had staggered, were you really that heavy? Was that a bad thing? He was touching you. Did he...like it? You were under his control. Did he see you as less of a man because of it? Or was it endearing? Did he feel the static that charged between you?

And you hadn't realized just how difficult embarrassment was to deal with when you were blind. 

Self-conscious, you couldn't judge other people's reactions based on their expressions. You frequently missed being able to see expressions, but you considered yourself lucky and perfectly able to get by because you could see their shapes. You hadn't realized how much you relied on expressions when you were embarrassed. To see how others were seeing you. To see if you were hiding it well. To see if they noticed. To see if they were embarrassed, too.  
It had been a long time since you had been at such a loss. 

And so you had let Jake English carry you to your bed as you nestled in his arms, hoping that your face was as controlled and confident as you thought it was.

You wanted to blame Roxy for the whole thing. But it wasn't entirely her fault. Jake had also played a part. Neither of you could have guessed that he would have bodily lifted you when prompted to show his strength. His unpredictability was also to blame. And yet...

As embarrassed as you had felt, and as mad at yourself as you had been about that embarrassment, that wasn't the sole reason for your erratic heartbeat.

You put a hand to your chest. It had slowed to a much more manageable pace. Earlier, it had felt like it had been pounding at your ribcage, pumping blood furiously to your nether regions. You were pretty sure that was the only reason there hadn't been enough blood left to go to your face and make you blush. You really hoped Jake hadn't noticed your stiffening. YOU had certainly noticed, and you were quick to have him switch you into a princess hold. That way, your semi-hard-on wouldn't be pressed into his shoulder.

One of the reasons for your half-way boner had been the fact that when he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder without a care in the world, you found yourself face to face with his stunning and perfectly plush ass.

You couldn't see it, of course. It was kind of just a green glow like the rest of him. But you KNEW it was there. And you may or may not have touched it. And by that, you meant that yes, you did touch it. It couldn't be helped, with you being flung so suddenly. Obviously your hands had to go somewhere to brace yourself. From what you could tell, it was firm and plush and you seriously wished he wore something a little tighter than cargo shorts.

It took all the strength you possessed not to simply take a couple handfuls and find out just how plush his ass really was. 

But that had only sparked your arousal. What had really screwed you over was when HE had touched YOUR ass. He had patted it so suddenly and so casually, as if he did it without thought. 

It had caught you off guard, with no time to prepare yourself. If you thought back to that moment, you could still feel his hand there, warm through the denim of your jeans.

You breathed in deeply, enough to stretch your ribcage, and exhaled loudly. You had only known him for a week, and yet Jake English was crashing through your life like a hurricane, turning everything over and leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces of your self-control.

The sound of a high pitched girlish voice saying "Onii-chaaan!" dragged you out of the pit of your thoughts. You realized you had just been laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. It was easy to get lost in thought when there was nothing visually to distract you. 

You shifted and, with a minor struggle, pulled your phone from your pocket. You knew from the text tone that it was Dave. You thought it was hilarious and appropriate, ironic, if you will, but Dave hated it. Feeling a little self-conscious, you flipped the button on the side that turned off ringer sound before activating voice commands.

"Read text."

Dave: i just got the best pics of my life

You were caught between a smirk and a frown. You used voice commands to respond.

Dirk: Those pictures were taken for my own personal enjoyment, and you will delete them immediately.  
Dave: yeaaaaah... nah  
Dave: im gonna frame them and hang them on my wall  
Dave: for the world to see  
Dave: maybe on my instagram  
Dave: ill call it "damsel in distress a hero arises"  
Dave: get it  
Dave: youre the damsel  
Dave: hes the hero  
Dave: youre distressed because hes makin something arise  
Dirk: Sensitive implications you got there, bro.  
Dirk: Cool it on the innuendos.  
Dave: you want it in your end-o  
Dave: couldnt resist that one  
Dave: bro why are you tryin to cool these sick fires?  
Dirk: He's still here, and due to my disability, texting is kind of like speaker phone.  
Dave: oooooo right  
Dave: my b  
Dave: still gonna put it on my instagram tho  
Dirk: Do you really want my fapping material posted on your instagram?  
Dave: omg  
Dave: omg gross  
Dave: why did you say that  
Dave: you cant even see it to fap to it  
Dave: ...  
Dave: fuck that was insensitive im sorry bro i didnt mean it  
Dirk: It's cool. I just wanted to scar you with that image.  
Dave: fine no instagram  
Dave: but im going to make a sweet bro and hella jeff comic about it  
Dirk: fine  
Dave: fine

There was a long pause, and you were almost certain he was done bugging you. Then your phone vibrated again.

Dave: so uh  
Dave: ive got a question  
Dave: and im in need of some brotherly wisdom  
Dirk: Well, I'm chock full of that. I'm sure I could spare you some.  
Dirk: But it'll come at a price.  
Dave: oh god  
Dave: what is it  
Dirk: Call me Onii-chan.  
Dave: omg  
Dave: omfg  
Dave: dirk no  
Dave: pls no  
Dirk: Come on, bro. It's ironic.  
Dave: dont use that card with me  
Dirk: Okay, you don't have to say it. But I'm gonna keep my brotherly wisdom bottled up and on the top shelf where you can't reach it.  
Dave: ugh  
Dave: UGH  
Dave: fine  
Dave: here i go  
Dave: are you ready?  
Dirk: My body is ready.  
Dave: help me onii-chan kenobi youre my only hope  
Dirk: Hell. Fucking. Yes.  
Dirk: You got my wisdom juices flowing. Like The Force through all living things. Lay it on me, bro.  
Dave: ive got the same problem you do  
Dirk: And, pray tell, what is my problem?  
Dave: i got a hankerin for some beefcake thats probably not too good for me  
Dirk: Is this the boy Rose told Roxy who told me about?  
Dave: wtf this family cant keep secrets for shit  
Dirk: So what's the problem? Other than the fact that you shouldn't be partaking in that kind of beefcake.  
Dave: the problem is idk if im hankerin for it because i want it or because rose is puttin the idea of DESTINY in my head  
Dave: i mean maybe i just want to sample the beefcake and leave  
Dave: maybe the beefcake just intrigues me and then ill pass it by because my budget and my diet have no room for beefcake  
Dave: but rose is that sales lady who has convinced me that i might be destined for this beefcake  
Dave: and that my life would be incomplete without this beefcake  
Dave: and that if i walk away im gonna be missin out on some major beefcake bliss that i cant even image  
Dave: so i gotta stay and get to know this beefcake cause its got me all curious  
Dave: im examinin the beefcake and talking to the beefcake and fucking subscribing to beefcake monthly  
Dave: all just to see if theres something to this whole beefcake destiny that the sales lady sold me  
Dave: shes twisted my mind around the idea of this beefcake to the point where i dont even know if im hungry for beefcake or if i just think i should be  
Dave: and if i stick around for the tasting am i gonna end up at beefcake emporium with my soul signed away to the beefcake gods?  
Dave: ya feel me?  
Dirk: You know, you're lucky I grew up with you. Otherwise I would probably have no fucking clue what you were talking about.  
Dave: yea yea youre the best now what should i do  
Dirk: Do you even know what the beefcake emporium destiny entails?  
Dave: well  
Dave: no  
Dirk: Well before you buy your ticket, why don't you go read the fine print and see what you're signing up for?  
Dirk: Maybe then you'll figure out whether or not you're actually hungry.  
Dave: ...  
Dave: your bro wisdom is the sweet sweet nectar that keeps me going  
Dirk: I know. You're welcome.  
Dave: see ya at home  
Dirk: Later.

You let your arm, phone in hand, fall to the bed. So Dave had a little crush on the fae boy you had heard about. Jane's sister. Jake's cousin, of sorts. Roxy and Jane were close friends, and you were pretty sure Rose was friends with the fourth J. Jade, if you remembered correctly. And you usually did. 

"Dirk!" You stiffened when you heard Jake's voice and sat up quickly, touching the back of your head to make sure your hair was still in place. Stiff as a board. You checked your shades, making sure they were in place. "Dirk!" 

You turned to look over your shoulder as his voice got louder, and you saw his shape appear where your door was. 

"There you are!" His head moved, and he paused, as if he were looking around your room. "What...are you doing, old chap?"

You shrugged. "Just chillin and contemplating life. Having a feelings jam with my little bro." You held up your phone, then let it drop again. You raised one eyebrow over the top of your shades. "Sup, English?" 

"I just wanted to say that today has been absotively posilutely aces, and I look forward to working with you!" You could hear the smile in his voice, and you felt the corners of your own lips twitch upward in a half-smile, half-smirk.

"Yeah, ditto."

"Well then, I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early! Goodnight, mate."

You lifted a hand and murmured a response as he turned to go. Once he was gone, you were left staring at the spot where he had been. His aura left faint and vague smudges in the darkness that faded as you watched. As if his presence had warmed the air and was cooling to cold darkness in his absence. 

If Rose was right, and fate was a thing, you had no doubt that you were somehow tied to Jake. Like Dave, you had sworn off meddling in faerie affairs. But unlike Dave, you were totally and completely willing to buy that nonrefundable ticket to the beefcake emporium, and you would deal with the fine print later.

You were determined to find out just who, and what, was Jake English.

And how exactly was he able to so quickly worm into your heart.


	6. Tapestry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or an alternative title: "Dave finally gets over himself and we can finally get the JohnDave train a-rollin'" :D

Your name is Dave Strider, and you were ready to read the fine print.

It took you two days to get ready. After Dirk had given you his nugget of elderly bro-vice, you left for work the next day completely intending to ask Rose about the "prophecy". But you had seen John on your way to work, like always, and he had unwittingly shaken your confidence. Seeing him, floating there in all his blue fae glory, you lost your nerve. You had found yourself analyzing your feelings. Did you like him because you liked him? Or because Rose told you that you're connected to him? Or were you destined to fall for him and you never had a choice in the matter? 

You had been so wrapped in your thoughts, you had found yourself staring at him through your shades. Realizing this, you had fixed your gaze firmly on the paved path in front of you. John must have sensed that you were not in the mood for his tricks, because instead of trying to poke and prod and trip you, he hovered above and beside you, silent. It was a change, but you didn't think much of it. In fact, you were grateful for it. It was easier to think without his laugh messing with your heartbeat. 

You had had crushes before, of course. You weren't a robot like your brother. You had dated several people in your teen years, both boys and girls, shortly and briefly. It never lasted more than a few months. Everyone eventually left you. Something about you hiding things and keeping secrets. You always just shrugged and let them walk away. As much as you wanted to share and open up and just be honest with someone, you couldn't. They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't believe because they couldn't see. 

You had once trusted someone with your secret once. You remembered how amazing it had been to finally tell someone. To share this thing about you, this thing that had shaped you and your entire family. But the results of your action weren't worth the temporary bliss. If you brother hadn't been there, if he had gone to his robotics convention two days early like he had originally planned, then it would have been you who lost his sight. Or worse. you probably would have lost your life.

And as grateful as you are to your brother, you wished nothing more than to turn back time and MAKE him go early, so he wouldn't have been the hero and wouldn't have sacrificed his sight for yours. You COULD have stopped him. You SHOULD have. But you hadn't. You had let him push you aside and stand up to the beasts who had left him blind. Alone. You had let him go alone.

You were a coward.

And you would regret it for the rest of your life.

But if you HAD gone alone and been the one left blind, would you still have fallen for John? If you couldn't see the windy asshole, with his brilliant blue eyes and cute dimples and his smile and wind blown mess of hair, would you still feel the same way? 

You had never been one to fall for someone purely on looks. Appearance meant little if the person beneath was rotten. But you couldn't deny that images of his blue tinged body sometimes kept you up at night, or that seeing the way his expressions changed so rapidly left you in a state of wonder. Or the way his smile drove you crazy in the shower, when you wondered how it would change if you touched him the way you wanted to. How much of your attraction was based on his appearance? Would it be different if Dirk hadn't taken your place? Did that mean Dirk was MEANT to be blind? Was it coincidence or part of some sick twisted destiny? 

You didn't want to, you refused, to believe that Dirk was MEANT to be blind. You had fucked up, and you weren't going to lessen your guilt by blaming it on fate. 

But you couldn't help but wonder, did you have control over any aspect of your life?

Your chest tightened and your gut twisted. You felt vaguely nauseous, like you couldn't get enough air. You breathed heavily through your nose, trying not to alert John to your distress. But when you had glanced at him, he wasn't even looking at you. His eyes were elsewhere, surveying the park. You hadn't been paying much attention to your surroundings the past few weeks. Not since John entered your life. If you paid attention, you could still feel the hate radiating from the river. If you cared to pay attention, you could have noticed the looks other fae were giving you. But you didn't care. All you cared about was the blue fae floating alongside you.

You could still see the burns on his cheek from your industrial bar and the other piercings in your ear. They were healing, but still raised and pink with tight skin around them and altogether painful looking. You had worried at your lip piercing. You remembered the look on his face when it happened. The shock and pain, and how quickly he had tried to hide it, even while the welts rose angrily and the smell of burnt flesh was all around. 

For a moment, you had forgotten he wasn't human. He was just...John. And then you had burned him, and you were both jerked back to reality. Could anything really work between you? 

By the time you had gotten to RoLa's, you had been in such a state of anxiety that you hadn't wanted to even think about the prophecy anymore. So you had spent the day avoiding Rose and trying to fight down the shame and guilt. 

Today, however, you woke up tired of running. You were going to follow your brother's advice, dammit, and you were going to shake off the shame and self-pity that threatened to crush your shoulders. You were a Strider, dammit, and you were going to meet this "destiny" shit like one. 

So you had avoided the park on your way to RoLa's, taking the long way around so you wouldn't see John. If you did, you knew you would go into another mind spiral of questions that would weaken your resolve. 

You stepped into RoLa's with your chest out and your chin held high. Rose was behind the counter in the small coffee shop, cleaning. She looked up when you entered, one eyebrow raised as she looked you over.

"Alright, lets do this."

Her other eyebrow went up to join the first. She set down her wash rag and the mug she had been drying. "And what, pray tell, is this?" She asked slowly.

As far as you could tell, no one was in RoLa's yet. It was still fairly early. So you lifted your shades and set them on top of your head, meeting her eyes with your own for dramatic effect. "I'm ready to meet my fate. Show me this prophecy." 

She stared at you for a few minutes, then her black painted lips curved into a small smile. "It's about time."

Your eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't give me that shit, Lalonde. Just show me before I change my mind."

She shrugged, walking around the counter and heading for the front door. "You have to allow me a little fun."

"Nope. No fun for you. This is a no fun zone. Completely serious from here on out. This is destiny we're talking about, Rose. Gotta take this shit serious."

"When am I not serious?" She walked behind you, and you half turned to follow her movements. She flipped the "OPEN" sign on the window to read "CLOSED", then locked the various locks on the big oak door, sliding the two deadbolts. She slipped off her cardigan and draped it over her forearm, turning around with a flourish and holding it up to hide the lower half of her face. She hunched and held up her other hand in a claw-like fashion. "Now come into my lair." She said with a terrible and halting Dracula accent.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Rose. This is not the time to imitate your Dracula girlfriend."

"You are no fun, Dave." She sighed and rolled her eyes, straightening. "And no, she doesn't act like Dracula. She prefers to sparkle in the sun." She smiled and tossed her sweater over the back of one of the chairs. "But in all seriousness, do have to go to my lair." 

She reached out and hit a switch on the wall next to the door, next to the light switches. All at once, the dark velvet curtains began to close, blocking out any and all natural light. You watched, amazed. You had never seen that switch used. Then she flicked all the light switches and you were plunged into complete darkness. 

"What the fuck, Rose?" You let your arms drop and took a step back. Your eyes were slow to adjust.

"Calm down, Dave. And trust me." A ball light came to life in front of her, bathing her face in a soft white glow. It looked like it was perched on the end of a stick that she held in her hand. In the lighting, she looked paler than usual, which made her lips and eyes stand out in sharp contrast. She was smiling.

Your eyes narrowed. "Is... is that..." You cleared your throat when you heard how high and unsteady it was. You tried again. "Is that a fucking magic wand?" 

Her smile seemed to widen a fraction. "Oh, this old thing?" She held it out to the side, causing the shadows to move across her face. Her other hand was on her hip. "Nah, this is just a wand flashlight I bought. Cool, huh?" She tapped the glowing ball with a fingernail. "See? Plastic. Runs on batteries."

You frowned, feeling like an idiot for thinking it was magic. But with Rose and the fae and this mysterious prophecy, you really didn't know what to expect. 

"Just...why?" You asked, for once at a loss for words. "Why, the fuck, is all this necessary?" You threw your arms up in the air. "I can't see shit." That wasn't completely true. The wand flashlight gave off a good amount of light. It was a soft glowing light, but when your eyes adjusted to it, you could see enough. 

"Here." Rose reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out another wand. She tossed this one to you and you fumbled with it a second, nearly dropped it. 

"How do I-" As you were asking, you found the switch and clicked it on. The whitish glow of your wand mixed with hers and lit the small coffee shop. "Do you just carry these around with you all the time?"

She winked, still smiling. "It never hurts to be prepared. As to your "why" question. The answer is simple: my mother had a flair for the dramatics. Come with me."

She led you through the bookshelves and toward the metal spiral staircase in the back. You climbed it slowly. The light that had originally seemed soft and welcoming, was now casting the store with eery shadows. You pushed away the dread that ran down your spine and pressed your lips into a thin line. You wanted this. You were going to see it through. Besides, Rose was just being dramatic. 

You just never realized how creepy RoLa's was in the right lighting.

"So I get the whole creating an atmosphere thing. I really do." You said as you climbed.

"Do you?" She asked mildly, stepping off the top of the stairs and onto the second floor. You came up beside her, but she had stopped walking and turned to look at you.

"Yeah, totes. You wanna make a good impression so I'll believe you and all that, right? Well I'm gonna do my best to believe you anyway, so can we just cut the dramatics? I can't see shit, even with these lights."

"We could." She said, nodding. "But then you wouldn't get to see the really cool thing."

That caught your attention, just like you knew she knew it would. You narrowed your eyes. "Okay, I'll bite. What really cool thing?"

She shrugged one shoulder and fiddled with a strand of hair. "Oh, just the really cool thing that protects this building from prying faerie eyes..."

"I thought that was what all the metal was for?"

"That is certainly part of it, but there is more... Mother was very thorough."

Your lips twisted into a frown and you huffed a sigh, slouching a bit in defeat. "Okay fine, let's do it your way. I wanna see the really cool thing." 

She smiled. "I thought you might. Now, notice the little twisty knob at the bottom of your wand?"

You mimicked the way she held hers, upright with one hand on the bottom. "Yeah?" You were skeptical. This place was creepy as fuck in the dark, and you were a little on edge when you thought about what kind of secrets it could hold. Mom Lalonde was a crafty broad, according to Bro. There was no telling what she did while building this place. And not to mention Rose was crafty and creepy in her own right. You found yourself wishing Roxy was here. She, at least, could cut the tension. 

Strider up, Dave. You need to read the fine print. Is John worth it?

You thought of the way his cheeks blushed blue beneath his glamour, and the way he used the capital B in his text smilies to mimic his teeth. 

You needed to know if your feelings were real, or if it was just some fae spell. 

Your phone was vibrating in your pocket. It had been all morning. No doubt John was worried about you after you didn't show up in the park. You had been avoiding texting him back for a couple days now. That didn't stop him from reaching out to you anyway. 

"Push the knob in and twist it halfway to the right." Rose was saying.

You did so, and for a brief second, the lights from both your wands went out. You held your breath, waiting.

You didn't have to wait long.

The wands flared back to life, but this time their glow was the dark purplish blue of a blacklight. You weren't sure what you had been expecting, but that certainly wasn't it. Maybe for a secret door to open up. Maybe for a bolt of lightning to shoot from the ceiling. Maybe a portal to the outer regions of hell to burst to life and for tentacle beasts to crawl forth from its depths. But not a blacklight. 

You looked at Rose. The light made her skin darken, and her lips and eyes looked like black hollows in her face. Eerily similar to a skull. Her white blouse glowed.

You doubted she could see your face, but she must have sensed your confusion. Or expected it.

"Look around." She said simply.

You did, and what you saw took your breath away.

The room was filled with glowing symbols and designs that you had never seen before. On the floor, a glowing circular pattern surrounded the hole where the spiral stairs opened up. It looked like some complicated flower, with runes in the petals. The bookcases around you each had runes drawn on the ends, and the floor had circular seals along the pathways. 

"What...the fuuuuck..." You whispered, looking at the markings on the floor. They didn't smudge where you stepped. They weren't new.

"Mom wanted to make sure this place was safe from faerie eyes. Follow me." She turned and walked away.

You followed silently through the bookshelf maze, holding your blacklight wand high to see as much as you could. You didn't recognize any of the runes and symbols you saw, but you had never been one to research such things. Rose reached the second spiral staircase and started to climb up to the balcony halfway up the vaulted walls. You followed, and your footsteps made muffled clangs against the metal. The sound was loud and out of place.

"Is this some kind of magic?" You asked when you reached the top of the stairs. Rose was waiting for you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her shrug with one shoulder. 

"In a way, yes. The Lalondes have a long history of being able to tap into the powers of our fae blood, diluted as it is." She waved a hand, indicating the glowing symbols all around. "These are wards to keep the fae away. Before this technology, wards were often carved or painted, which isn't nearly as subtle. This way, faeries feel a sense of foreboding and stay away, even if they aren't sure why. Have you ever wondered why you never see Kanaya here?"

"I always just thought she was busy or couldn't handle my coolness in close proximity. Or she can't come out in the sunlight."

She smiled. "Glad to see your humor is still in tack. But no. She finds work to do so she has excuses not to visit me here. I don't blame her."

"I bet these give her the willies." You said, reaching out to touch a symbol on a nearby bookshelf. 

"You know how much she loves willies."

"So much." You trailed your fingers across more symbols. "Some crazy voodoo majuks up in here. Does Roxy know about it?"

"Of course. Our mother left this place to both of us." 

Rose lightly trailed her free hand along the metal railing as she walked along the balcony. You followed absently. You could see the tops of the bookshelves below, and each of them had several symbols, arrows, spirals, shapes, and runes. That, combined with the markings on the floor, gave the whole thing a strange, three dimensional effect. Nearly the entire balcony floor was covered in markings. Circles with runes, attached by lines and swirls. The books up here also had a few, smaller markings. Maybe this was how Rose knew when they were touched?

She led you around to the back wall, the one without tall windows covered in heavy drapery, and stopped near the center of the wall. She held her wand high, other hand on the railing, and looked out at the chandelier. The hundreds of candles were in place, but unlit. You weren't sure if you had ever seen them lit, or even how one might go about lighting them. But in the blacklight's purplish light, each candle had the same symbol on it, and together they cast the ironwork in shadows. 

The ceiling glowed the brightest. Nearly the entire thing was coated in interwoven runes and symbols. It looked like glowing and ancient clockwork. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Rose whispered, as if speaking at a normal volume might ruin the moment. 

You tried to swallow past the lump in your throat and nodded. 

No wonder you had always felt safe in RoLa's. As strange as everything was, you still felt safe.

"Still want to know about the prophecy?" She asked softly. 

Your mouth felt dry, but your grip tightened. "Can't really turn back now, can I? Curiosity will eat me up inside."

Rose snorted and turned to stare for a minute at the bookshelf behind you. She held out her wand to you. "Hold this." She then began to rearrange the books, squatting for some and getting up on her toes to reach others. You were pretty sure she moved nearly every single book within reach. Eventually, she took a step back, one book left in her hand. She turned an amused eye on you. "Ready?"

You nodded. She had rearranged the books so that the lines and curves and runes on their spines lined up to create a large flower-like symbol, similar to those on the ceiling. It was made up of several overlapping loops to create a petal effect, and each petal had a symbol in it. You didn't know what any of the symbols meant. You weren't even sure if Rose did. But the light from the nearly completed seal seemed to pulse, and your skin tingled. 

Rose slid the book in her hand into the last remaining spot in the center. You held your breath. 

The glow dimmed and then grew brighter, and you had to squint against it. There was a loud crack, several clicks, and then a grinding sound of wood on wood as the bookshelf in front of you pushed back into the wall and then slid to the side, revealing a doorway. The room beyond was pitch black.

Rose took both wands from you, turned them off, and stepped inside. You steeled yourself, taking a deep breath and straightening your back, and followed. 

"Do you have a candle or something?" You asked after a moment of silence. 

You heard the sounds of her moving along the wall. "No, but we do have a light switch."

Suddenly the room was lit and you made a startled sound and covered your eyes. "Jesus, Lalonde, give a man some warning." When your eyes adjusted, you found the light was coming from several lamps mounted along the walls. 

The room itself was small and square. One short bookshelf was against the back wall. It only had three shelves but they were all filled with old, leather toms. In the center of the room was a wooden podium, and in the corner was a purple velvet chair. 

Rose went to sit in the chair, crossing her legs delicately and resting laying her arms on the armrests. She looked completely at ease in the strange little room with the old looking books in the big fancy chair. Her lips were curved into a small, sly smile. 

"Welcome to the inner sanctum. Or, as I like to call it, my lair." 

Tapestries hung from the three walls and the lamp fixtures hung in the corners, giving the room a warm and cozy feel.

"Did your mom do all this?"

"The chair was my addition." She said, patting the velvet armrests. "But otherwise, yes. This was her life work. Collecting all of our family resources from the various places were they had been hidden, and compiling them here. She spent the better part of a year drawing the runes and seals that protect this place. Those," She said, waving a hand to indicate the tomes on the shelf. "Are our family's grimoires and journals." 

You hadn't moved from your spot in the doorway. "How come we were never told about this...stuff."

"You were raised with the intention of giving you as normal of a life as Bro could provide. He didn't want you worrying about our family's past, or the part you were meant to play. Maybe it was BECAUSE of your destiny that he wanted you to live in innocence of it. He made mom swear never to tell you about this 'stuff' until you asked."

Your eyes narrowed slightly. "Too bad you've been dropping 'destiny' bombs on me since we were kids."

She smiled, tapping an idle finger on her lap. "Yes, well I never told you the DETAILS of it, did I?" 

"Yeah, but we both know you wanted to spill the beans. If it weren't for your mom, you would have dumped the beans all over me years ago."

She lifted one of her shoulders. "True enough."

You crossed your arms over your chest and shifted your weight to one foot. You were trying not to let your agitation show, but you knew Rose could see it. Especially without your shades on. 

"So where's this prophecy shit? I came here to read the fine print for the beefcake emporium, and goddammit, I'm not leaving until I do."

She raised one questioning brow, but let it slide. Instead, she nodded her head toward the tapestry hanging on the wall behind the bookshelf. "See for yourself." 

The tapestries to your left and right were similar, but with different color schemes. One was in shades of gold, and the other purple. The tapestry on the back wall was different. A scene similar to a checkerboard hilly landscape overcast with blue skies and fluffy clouds. There were eight silhouettes in the background. Four gold and four purple. The whole thing was faded and frayed, obviously old. The details were lost. But the words in the center were still readable. 

You stepped forward, feeling a cold sweat break out on your back. Rose's words about Bro had replaced your sense of awe with one of foreboding. He had raised you to keep this part of yourself secret. He had raised you to stay away from faeries and their business. You hadn't done a very good job of that, but at least he had tried. Doing this now felt like a betrayal of his trust.

But, if you believed Rose, he had said not until you asked yourself... and you had asked...

Four centuries and thirteen years after the fall from grace,  
When the light court fails and the two become one,  
Redemption will be achieved through the decedents,  
Who will aid the Lost in reclaiming their birth rights,  
The Seer will guide the Witch  
The Prince will wake the Page  
The Rogue will teach the Maid  
The Knight will strengthen the Heir  
Together, four and four, will ease the wounds of time and restore the balance 

You read it once. Then twice. Then three times. The embroidery was hard to make out, but you were sure that by the fourth time, you were reading it correctly. Unfortunately, it still didn't make much sense. 

"What the even fuck?" You asked, turning to look at Rose.

She was still sitting, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. But she wasn't looking at you. She was staring at the tapestry. "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

"That is the opposite of my problem, Lalonde. Is this it? Like, is this ALL of it? Are you sure there's not more on the back?"

Her violet eyes slid to you. "This is all of it, Dave." 

You were at a loss for words, but only for a moment. You sputtered and gestured at the tapestry. "But...there's like... nothing is here! It's like a what, eight, nine line poem? And it doesn't even rhyme. THIS is what you got me all worked up for?"

She raised both her eyebrows and smiled, amused. But she didn't sound surprised by your reaction. "What did you expect it to say? 'Dave Strider saves the day with the aid of his sidekick, John the windy fae.'"

You grit your teeth to fight the warmth rising to your cheeks. "Well...yes. Something like that. At least a LITTLE more detail would be appreciated. How are you even sure it means us?"  
Then she stood, plucked a worn looking leather journal from the shelf, and went to the podium. She set the book there and flipped through it with gentle fingers. 

"Because this year marks four hundred and thirteen years after our ancestor gave birth to a half human, half faerie child. Her handmaiden and loyal friend had helped her hide away and delivery the baby safely. And when this fae, who was a renowned seer, held the baby, it's said that her eyes clouded over with future sight and spoke the prophecy."

She stopped at a page and pointed. You went to stand next to her and there, on the page and written in a faded dark brown ink, was the same words from the tapestry. "It was passed down from word of mouth for several decades, until our ancestors started keeping journals. This was the first instance of it being written. As you can see, some of the spellings are a little different from modern English, and a few word choices are different. The tapestry was made roughly two hundred and fifty years ago. It was in a castle in France for a while, owned by some rich collector, until our grandparents stole it."

"Stole?" You asked, both eyebrows rising. 

"The man wasn't willing to part with it by financial means, so other measures had to be taken. After all, it belongs in our family. You should really read some of these journals some time. They're quite riveting."

"Yeah, let me get right on that." You grumbled, eyeing the books on the shelf. You were doing your best to not look too shaken up by this whole thing. And given the circumstances, you thought you were doing a pretty good job. After all, a whole new aspect of your history and your destiny was being dumped on you all at once. 

"So who am I?" You asked, turning to look back at the tapestry. "The prince or the rogue?"

"The knight." She corrected. "Dirk is the prince, and Roxy is the rogue."

"What? That's not even fair. Dirk, the prince, yeah, okay, I get it. He's all leader-y and whatnot. But Roxy? The rogue? Come on. She wouldn't do any badass stealing. She's too nice."

"I didn't choose the titles, Dave." She said smiling. "Besides, language and the meanings of words have changed over the centuries, not to mention the translations it has gone through. As far as we can tell, 'rogue' was meant to be a good thing, not a bad thing. More of a Robin Hood character. Plus, I don't think you're giving Roxy enough credit. She is capable of a lot more than she leads on."

You remembered how Roxy once hacked an online game system to give you and your opponents hilarious mods, just to fuck with the game. Hell, you were still using that gold membership that she had gotten added to your account for free. And Dirk once off handedly mentioned that Roxy knew enough to hack into bank accounts and security systems if she wanted to. In fact, she had once hijacked a semi-truck filled with food, disabled the tracking system, and dispersed the food to locale homeless and women's shelters. All without being caught. She was so cheerful and good natured that no one ever suspected her of anything. Hell, even the fae had no idea she could see them. 

Sudden the title "rogue" didn't seem so farfetched. Robin Hood indeed.

"How are you so sure what our titles are?"

She carefully shut the journal and replaced it on the shelf. "I just do. I'm the seer."

"So if you're right, then I'm the knight and John is the heir?"

"I believe so, yes."

"And I'm supposed to 'strengthen' him?"

"Apparently."

"What the fuck does that even MEAN."

"There's no real way to tell for sure. All I know is your destinies are intertwined."

"And... that's it?" You eyed the faded figures on the tapestry. One purple silhouette flouted in the air, legs bent slightly, and a long tail of cloth trailing behind him. You could see a faded symbol in the figure. Something that looked like two wavy lines. He was facing a gold figure on the ground, this one with what looked like a sword. The symbol in this figure looked vaguely like a gear.

"That's it."

"All you know is that we're supposed to be friends?" You felt a little disappointed, and you were mad about it. Here you were, expecting some grand destiny. And all you got were a few vague and confusing words about knights and heirs.

Your fists were clenched in your pockets, and your jaw was tight. You came here to read the fine print, and now that you had, you still didn't really have an answer. Your destinies were intertwined, so you were meant to meet and be close enough to "strengthen" him, but did that mean you were meant to fall for him? Was that your choice? If you weren't meant to be with him, did that make your feelings futile? Were you just going to get hurt in the end? 

And what about YOUR choices? Where did they come into play? Was Dirk meant to be blind? Was your attraction to John only physical or was there more? Had Rose dangled this destiny crap over your head just so you'd fall for it and read more into your feelings for John than what was really there? 

You didn't have any answers. You were no closer to figuring out what and who you were meant to be than when you woke up this morning. Your fingernails bit into the skin of your palms. 

Suddenly Rose's hand was on your arm, and you looked at her, startled. You hadn't realized how tense you were, and your arm relaxed under her comforting touch. She smiled at you, a genuine warm smile, then turned back to the tapestry. 

"I never said you were supposed to be friends. Neither does the tapestry. You can carry out a destiny to help someone without ever growing attached to them personally." She leaned her head on your shoulder and continued softly. "But that doesn't mean it can't happen. That doesn't mean it wasn't meant to be. That part is entirely up to you."

Your jaw unclenched and you sighed, feeling the tension drain from your body. You tilted your head to rest it atop hers. "Thanks, Rose..."

"Anytime." She patted your chest. "Now how about a cappuccino?"

"Make it a double and you got yourself a deal."

The two of you left the secret room, waited while the bookshelf slid back into place, and headed back downstairs. 

All you had wanted was to live a normal life. And that's what you thought you were getting when you and Dirk moved here. Another chance at normal. At simple. At not being bombarded with fae bullshit.

You should have known that wouldn't be the case with Rose around. 

Normal was what you swore you wanted. And here you were, fucking it up again by getting feelings for a fae boy and making it hella hard to turn your back on that tapestry of fate. "Strengthen." What the fuck did that even mean? Taking him to the gym and coaching him with weights?

And if you DID turn your back on the prophecy, what would happen to John? You suppressed a shudder. The fae were cruel, and he was so... innocent. They would tear him apart.

You felt exhausted, emotionally and mentally. You were tired of thinking. Tired of wondering and speculating and being stuck inside your own head. You were tired of wondering what was fate and what was choice. You were tired of wondering if any of your choices were right.

Your head was beginning to throb, and you wondered if Rose had any painkillers laying around.

Your phone buzzed for the millionth time as you reached the coffee shop. While Rose went to fix you a drink, you took a seat at one of the tables. With feelings of satisfaction and appreciation, you watched as she reached for the liquor bottles on the top shelf and grabbed a bottle of Bailey's. She paused for only a moment to look at you, and you nodded. 

While the espresso machine gurgled to life, you pulled out your phone. The screen was filled with missed messages from John. He was worried, but he tried to hide it by attempting random conversation. Did you like superhero movies? Did you hear about the new Ghost Busters movie? Were you up for a game of Smash Bros? Did you want to see a picture of a derpy pigeon? A picture of the pigeon. Did you like laser tag? A picture of his grinning face as he held up a chocolate espresso donut. 

If you weren't wrapped up in some prophecy from a long dead seer. If helping John with his unfinished fae business wasn't part of your destiny. If none of that existed and he was just some fae who followed you in the park and delivered donuts to RoLa's. Would you still be willing to befriend him and would you still be willing to give your crush a chance?

You stared at the picture of him on your phone.

Yes. Yes, you would. 

And that made all the difference.


	7. Ambush

Your name is John Egbert, and Dave is an asshole.

Really, you weren't even sure why you spent so much time worrying about him. Maybe it was because you didn't have much going on in your day-to-day, so you had hours of time to just sit and wait on your phone and worry when he didn't answer you. But of course nothing could be wrong. You followed him whenever he was outside. You'd know if anything happened to him then. And you were pretty sure RoLa's was safe. The whole building gave off this whole "go away, fae beware" vibe. You once tried peaking in the windows, but when you touched the glass, it sent little shocks up your arm. It could have been your imagination, but you didn't really think so.

You idly rubbed your arm at the memory. 

You were probably only worried because Dave hadn't taken his usual route to work today. Instead of going through the park, he had taken a longer way around it. You had finally found him right as he was reaching RoLa's. It was probably a good thing. What with all the stares he was getting from the park fae. You had been trying to figure out how exactly to broach that topic. "Hey man, be careful, there's a race of invisible faeries who may or may not want to hurt you for saving that girl that one time. You kinda took a kelpie's lunch and they're not too fond of that. Watch your back, bro."

He would think you were crazy.

The best you could think to do was just watch his back for him, whether he knew it or not. 

But maybe he had figured it out, or at least felt uneasy in the park, and chose to avoid it. That would be a good thing, right? You should be happy about that. And you would be. If it weren't for the fact that the asshole was ignoring all of your calls and texts.

Maybe he just didn't want to talk to you. You had just kind of stumbled into his life, maybe he was getting tired of you?

UGH.

This thought brought you full swing around to the fact that Dave was an asshole and you weren't even sure WHY you were so worried about his smug little ass. You were going to punch him when you saw him next. Right in the face. Knock that smirk right off. Yeah. That's what you were going to do. 

A small gust of wind blew past you, and you closed your eyes, feeling it comb through your hair. You were drifting on the wind, laying back and staring at the clouds. Instead of controlling the wind, you let it gently push you where ever it wanted.

Apparently that was right into a building. Your head bumped into glass, jarring you in your surprise. You mumbled a curse and sat up, looking into the building. Some office building with wall to wall windows. It towered above you for several more stories. Inside you could see cubicles and offices and people in suits going about their business. 

At the sound of your head against the glass, a woman looked up from her computer, but frowned when she didn't see anything out the window. You smiled, and tapped on the glass.

Tap tap taptap tap.

You paused, and she looked uneasy. You tapped out the rhythm again. Paused. Then again. Finally she got up and walked to the window, peering up, down, left and right, but she couldn't find anything that might have made the sound. She looked around her office, but no one was near the wall of windows. Then you slammed both palms against the glass to finish the rhythm. 

TAP TAP.

It was loud and shook the window. She jumped, staring out with wide eyes. People around the office looked up, frowning at her. She went back to her desk, sending the window anxious glances. 

"Don't tap the glass. It makes them nervous." You mumbled, smiling as you repeated something your dad had once said about goldfish. 

You had once worried that you'd end up in some office job like this, but now that you knew you were fae, you supposed you didn't have to worry about it. What did faeries even do for a living? The court fae had jobs, sort of. Karkat told you once about the hierarchy and system of court fae life. Unfortunately, he was super boring and rambling and you kinda stopped paying attention. 

Casting one last look at the office woman, you put your hands and feet on the window and pushed off, creating a small burst of wind to carry you away from the building. You hoped your feet left marks on the glass. Now THAT would be funny.

You looked around, trying to get a bearing on where you were. The middle of downtown, it looked like. The part with all the office buildings, restaurants that were only open for lunch hours, and small patches of greenery and fountains to give the office folk some solace of nature. 

You had drifted quite a ways since you left RoLa's this morning. You had just floated on the breeze, texting Dave, waiting, and brooding. You checked your phone, but still no messages from him.

"Come oooon, you asshole." You grumbled, shaking your phone for emphases. "Text me back, you son of a-" 

Then your phone vibrated and lit up, startling you enough that your grip loosened and you dropped your phone. It plummeted toward the pavement several stories below.

"Fuck!" You dove, using the wind to propel you faster. You caught your phone right before it hit the ground. "Ha! Gotcha." You hastily swiped your phones lock screen and looked up just in time to see a truck coming straight toward you. You were hovering too low above the street. "Jesus!" You shot upward, feeling the breeze from the truck on your bare feet. The driver couldn't see you, but it would have hurt like hell if he hit you. You shivered at the thought of all that metal coming at you with any sort of speed. You absently rubbed your cheek as you flew higher. The marks left by Dave's piercings were beginning to fade.

You perched on a ledge that stuck out from one of the older, more intricate buildings. You weren't quite at the roof, but you were on the level of the gargoyles. You sat next to one, feet dangling in open air, and checked your phone.

Dave: i go afk for a day and suddenly my phone is blown up higher than the top of mount saint helens geez egbert i know im hot stuff and all but a guys gotta have his space youre needier than my first middle school girlfriend

You snorted and hunched over your phone as you texted.

John: i'm sorry, you've reached a number that has deleted you from their phone. next time, try not to be a douche. goodbye.  
Dave: real funny john im shaking with laugher over here my side are burning you really are the prank queen  
John: prank MASTER  
Dave: im sorry did i say prank queen I meant drama queen  
Dave: but seriously bro sorry for the lack of communication on my end i know how sweet and addictive my words are and how you cant get enough of my golden tongue dont want to deprave you for too long or else youll go through withdrawal  
John: ha! hahaha! you're hilarious dave! so funny i forgot to laugh!  
Dave: sigh  
Dave: fine  
Dave: for realsies im sorry ive been caught up in a lot of my own stuff and kinda shut myself off for a while but ive come to terms with everything  
John: so you're okay?  
Dave: yeah no worries right as rain peachy dandy and all those other crap words that means im aight  
John: good, so i won't feel bad about punching you next time i see you  
Dave: whoa now did i say i was alright i mean im in pain and im deathly ill and i cant even type john you wouldnt hit a sick man would you  
John: you're full of shit dave  
Dave: yeah well you still seem to like me so im doin something right  
John: psh, says who?  
Dave: come on john you know you cant resist my charm its okay nothing to be embarrassed about it happens all the time  
John: ha! hahah!  
Dave: laugh all you want egbert we both know whats going on here  
John: yeah okay, please enlighten me dave, what's going on here?  
Dave: you and me going to the movies tonight thats what

You stared at your phone for a few long moments. Sure, you had asked him to hang out and watch movies with you before, but this felt... different. He had never suggested it. And this felt a little like... flirting.

Great. You had never really been great at THESE kinds of interactions. Sure, you could make friends if you wanted. You were great at befriending people when you felt like it. Maybe not a LOT of people, but they friends you did have were great. And people in your classes always seemed to like you. But you always had trouble when it came to...flirting.

Was that even what this was? You couldn't really tell if Dave was TRYING to flirt or if he was just being Dave. Maybe you were just over thinking things. Just a few minutes ago you were worried he didn't like you at all, and now you were worried that he liked you too much? You shook your head. What was wrong with you?

Besides, did you even feel THAT WAY about Dave? Sure, you spent most of your day thinking (and worrying) about him, and you looked forward to talking to him, and you followed him every day to and from work. But it had been a while since you made friends with anybody, and Dave was interesting and fun. But did you really want to be... more than friends?

Dave was attractive, you supposed. You'd seen the way people looked at him as he passed. With his swept back blond hair and piercings that made him look all bad-boyish. And his stupid shades that gave him this air of indifference and mystery. There was also his smile, and you had seen that smile, even though the people on the street hadn't. 

Suddenly, you felt nervous. Or rather, anxious. You held your phone at arms length, like it might rear up and bite you at any moment. Your palms felt sweaty. How were you supposed to respond?

Then your phone slipped from your grip again. You cursed and dove for it. This time it only got a few stories down before you caught it. You idly wondered if your phone was unglamoured as it left your hand. Did people in the buildings around you just see a phone falling then disappear? Who knew, but that might make a good prank some day. You floated back up and this time perched on a gargoyle, straddling it and leaning forward, your chin resting on its head. 

"I don't suppose YOU know what I should say?" The gargoyle was silent. "Heh, didn't think so. Maybe I should wait until dark and see if you come to life. Gonna save the town from all the bad guys? Wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've seen."

You looked down and spotted nymphs playing in one of the fountains, splashing people when they came too close. You saw saytrs in the small patch of grass, trees, and benches that constituted a park among the tall buildings. One played a pan flute and skipped away from chasing children. A couple others poked, prodded, and tugged at passing women. A few small tree spirits chased each other through the branches of the trees that lined the sidewalks, causing leaves to rattle and fall. You spotted a homeless man, carrying his bags and shouted what sounded like nonsense. People around him stared, but what they couldn't see were the fae that taunted him, poking and pulling and tripping, whispering in his ear until he batted them away. 

Your phone buzzed, bringing your attention back to it. 

Dave: yo earth to johnny boy  
Dave: youve been bugging me to see a movie with you forever and here i am offering myself up like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter ready and willing to sit through some cinematic monstrosity with you and here you are ignoring me  
Dave: im gonna take the offer off the figurative table in three  
Dave: two  
Dave: one  
John: not so fast! yes, let's go see a movie!  
Dave: thats more like it  
John: so, uh, what do you want to see?  
Dave: doesnt matter im doing this for you  
John: aw dave you're so sweet :B  
Dave: like a fucking sugar coated gumdrop 

You were feeling a little better. It sounded like Dave was offering a movie as a way to make up for the colossal douchebag he'd been lately. And you HAD been bugging him to see a movie with you, so it wasn't that strange. You let out a small sigh of relief. You liked how things were with Dave, and you didn't want to think about it. You just wanted... to let your friendship, or whatever it was, happen.

Dave: so ill meet you in the park around seven we can walk there  
John: sounds good!  
Dave: also bring a box of those donuts from your sisters bakery you taunted me with them and now you need to deliver  
John: ugh fine needy :B  
Dave: sweet its a date

You gulped, but your mouth felt suddenly dry.

Date? WAS it a date? Or was it just a figure of speech? It wouldn't be the first time Dave had said something like that, so why did it sound different now? Why were you so worried about this? It was DAVE for goodness sake! 

A thought occurred to you. Not that it was a date, or that you were expecting it to be one. But if it WAS a date, would kissing be expected? What if he read the signs as a date-date and it was going well and he leaned in to kiss you? Did you WANT him to kiss you? No, that wasn't the point. The point was if he DID kiss you, whether you were wanting or expecting it or not, and he actually managed to do it... You remembered the first night you had seen him, when you saved his life, and the burn he had left on your lip from his lip ring. You hadn't felt it at the time, because you were so focused on saving him, but you HAD felt it for several days afterward, and it had hurt like fuck.

If he did try to kiss you, whether you wanted it or not, you had to push him away, or risk hurting yourself. And if he DID kiss you, and you DIDN'T push him away, and it burned, and you let it show that you were in pain, would he think it was because you didn't want it? Did you not want it or did you?

A shiver went down your spine, though you weren't sure if it was from fear of pain or anticipation, excitement or nervousness. You groaned loudly and let your forehead fall forward to rest on the cool stone of the gargoyle. You put your phone in the gargoyles mouth and wrapped both arms around its neck. 

"There, eat it so I don't have to worry about this stuff ever again." The stone creature didn't listen. "Some help you are..." 

"Calm down, John. It's just Dave." You said in a deep, rumbling gravel voice, imitating what you thought the gargoyle should sound like. "Go with the flow and just be yourself."

"Psh, you're right. Dave's harmless." You patted the creature on the side. "Thanks, buddy."

Everything was going to be just fine.

_________________________________________________________________________  
Your name is Dave Strider, and you were cool as a mother fucking cucumber. 

Yeah, a cucumber that had been left out in the hot july sun of Texas. Better yet, the Sahara. You were as cool as a mother fucking cucumber left to rot in the desert.

You were glad you had reapplied deodorant before heading out to the park to meet John. After careful deliberation that included going through your whole wardrobe twice and flopping around on the bed facedown, you had finally settled on an outfit. One that said, "hey I'm cool as fuck" as well as "I don't give a fuck." Coincidently, that turned out to be one of your typical outfits: black jeans and your favorite shirt with the record and red sleeves. Over that was your favorite hoodie. Comfort equaled confidence, right? Either way, you still didn't want pit stains to give away your nervousness.

Not that you had anything to be nervous about. It was just John. John, the adorable fae boy. John, who had bugged you for days about going to see a movie. A friendly gesture. Friends went to the movies all the time. No biggie. 

Dirk had eyed you suggestively when you said you were leaving again. 

"John?" He had asked, but it wasn't much of a question. The smirk on his face told you that.

"Yeah, so?" You went to the fridge for a swig of apple juice before you left. Your mouth felt dry.

"Dave," He had stood and was across the room fast enough that it startled you. You hated when he moved like that. He leaned against the counter next to you.

"What?" You drank straight from the bottle.

"Good luck," He held out his hand and you stared at it for a moment before looking up at his face. He looked serious enough, a small smirk on his lips. 

"Thanks, bro." You took his hand in your free one and was surprised to find something there. You pulled back your hand to see a small black, square package with Yoda's face and the phrase, "Do or do not, there is no try." You looked up at him, mouth open and eyes wide. "What the hell is this?"

His smirk widened. "It's a lightsaber condom."

"Dude, what the fuck?" You tossed the condom back at him and slammed the fridge shut. 

"It glows in the dark, how much better can you get? Nothing says romance like a dick-on-dick lightsaber battle." He reached into his pocket and held out his hand. "How about this one?"  
It was Darth Vader this time, with the phrase, "I will not be your father."

"Oh my god." You threw the empty bottle in the trash.

"Here." He held out his other hand. A clone was on the wrapper. It said, "I don't want any clones."

"Bro, we can't even- we're both dudes!"

His smirk widened into a grin. "Better safe than sorry."

"Ugh, you're a dick." You said, heading for the door. As your hand touched the doorknob, another one hit the door and fell to the floor.

"If you're gonna get yourself some dick, make sure to use one of these."

You looked down. The one on the floor was C-3PO with the phrase, "Human-Cyborg relations."

"Jesus fucking christ. Where did you even get these?"

"Roxy gave them to me."

You snorted a laugh. "Maybe you should use them with your own boy toy."

He shrugged, still leaning against the counter. He lifted his hands in a helpless, innocent gesture. "What kind of brother would I be if I didn't share with my little bro?"

"We're just friends."

"Just friends wouldn't be so nervous."

Your eyes narrowed behind your shades. "Stop reading my aura."

"I don't need to see your aura, little bro. I've lived with you your whole life. Now be a good little boy and take your lightsaber condoms. No glove, no love."

"Bro."

"Cover your stump before you hump."

"Dirk."

"You can't go wrong if you shield your dong."

Your face was hot. "Stop, oh my god."

"Don't make a mistake, cover your snake."

"Dude, it's not like that!"

"He won't bristle if you wrap your whistle."

"I'm leaving!" You announced loudly, throwing the door open and escaping outside.

He was in the doorway shouting after you. "Mesa thinksa yousa gonna get some!" Something hit you in the back of the head. You stiffened but didn't turn around.

You ran a hand through your hair, thinking about the exchange. You could feel your cheeks warming again and you were glad for the cool night air. It wasn't that cold, but cool enough that a Texan born and raised could feel comfortable in a hoodie. Dirk could be such a dick when he wanted to be. You'd find a way to get him back though. You weren't the only one with a crush. 

John was waiting for you when you arrived at the park. The sun was setting, but there was still enough light to see by as the streetlights started to kick on.

You found him sitting at the same bench you had met him at before. He wore simple jeans and a tshirt, but beneath that glamour you could see his usual fae outfit. He sat with his legs outstretched, feet wiggling. When he saw you coming, he jumped to his feet, grabbing a bakery box that had been sitting next to him. Even from this distance, you could see his bright smile. 

"Dave!" He called, and you could hear the cheerful tone of his voice matching his smile. You couldn't tell from this distance, but you liked to believe he had a small blue flush going on beneath his glamour. 

You lifted your hand in greeting, all memories of your brother forgotten. A small smile curved the corner of your lips. All the tension and nervousness drained out of you, and you hadn't realized until that moment just how stiff you had been. You weren't sure what you were so worried about. It was John.

Everything was going to be fine.

You opened your mouth, but a sudden sharp pain in your neck caused his name to die in your throat. 

The force of it caused your head to jerk, and your hand instinctively went to the side of your neck. There was something there. You froze, planting both your feet to keep from stumbling. Your neck burned, and the burn was spreading, but in its wake your skin was going numb. Panic started to crawl up your spine as you gripped whatever was in your neck and yanked it out. You stifled a small yelp of pain.

It was some sort of dart. A tube, maybe made of glass, ended in a wicked looking sharp point, the tip of which had a few drops of blood. The body was wrapped in some sort of twine, and feathers were tied to the back. It looked innocent enough in the palm of your hand, but you knew it wasn't.

"Shit." You muttered, but the burning numbness was starting to spread up your neck and to your jaw. You gritted your teeth, trying to stop the panic that was gripping at your chest. 

You looked around frantically, eyes wide. You hadn't noticed before. You were so focused on John, on the movies, on what might come of it, of Dirk and his stupid jokes. You hadn't been paying any attention to your surroundings like you should have. Like Bro and Dirk had always taught you. You had let yourself get wrapped up in your thoughts.

You hadn't noticed that the park was empty.

The park, the biggest in the city and nestled in the middle of things, shouldn't have been empty at seven o'clock on any day of the week. It should have been busy with people going home from work, or going out, or going for a walk, or catching a frisbee game before dark, or walking their dogs. But there was no one. 

Then they started to peel away from the shadows. Figures that were half shadow themselves. Most of them were tall, some with bulk and some gangly. In the fading light, their glamour glinted. They were invisible to the human eye. But you could see them. They came towards you, slowly and confidently. You thought you saw toothy grins and flexing claws. The buzz of anger and animosity that usually pulsed from the river, which you had learned to ignore, grew stronger, thumping in your chest. Or maybe that was just your own heartbeat.

Grey dots began to blur the edges of your vision. You whirled around, trying to count the fae that advanced toward you, but your mind was growing hazy and your vision blurred with dizziness. You stumbled as you turned back toward John. He was still standing a good distance away, where he had been a moment ago. 

But he was no longer smiling. His mouth was hanging open, his eyes wide. He took a step back, his head whipping around to stare at the fae around the park. As far as you could tell, in your hazy state of mind, they were advancing on you in a vague circle. John was outside that. Watching.

Your chest seized momentarily at the thought that John was in on this, but no. He looked too frantic and just as panicked as you felt. He had no idea. 

You took a step forward and attempted to call out his name, but it sounded slurred and strangled. The numbness had crawled up your face and your tongue felt thick and your lips didn't seem to work right. You were probably drooling on yourself. Great. That was attractive.

His head spun around to face you and his eyes found yours. They were wide and beautiful. You watched in mild and detached fascination as the donut box fell from his hands. It fell slowly, and you watched open-mouthed as it hit the pavement and toppled over, spilling donuts out onto the walkway. 

What a waste.

You didn't realize how slowly your mind was working and your body was reacting until you tried to take another step, caught your toe on the ground, and started to fall forward. The pavement came up quickly. One moment you were standing, the next you were laying down. You felt the ground hit you, but it didn't hurt, even though you knew it should have. You hadn't caught yourself. But the burn had spread throughout your body and left a cool numbness behind. You didn't feel anything. 

Vaguely, you heard someone calling your name. Or at least, you thought it was your name. You managed to roll your eyes upward to see John. Grey and black dots were taking over your vision, but you could still see him. He stood still, mouth working, probably shouting your name. You wanted to call out to him, to tell him to run, tell him anything. But you couldn't move your lips, and your throat flexed in vain. 

He was the last thing you saw before darkness took you. 

And in the strange, calm clarity of thought that comes right before unconsciousness, you were glad you hadn't preordered your movie tickets.


	8. Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4/13!!!

Your name is John Typheus Ierfenuma Mennisclyft Egbert, and you are the fury of the wind.

You shouted his name as he fell. Dave. You should have seen this coming. Not Dave. You should have told him not to meet you in the park. No. You should have warned him. Nono. But you had been too wrapped up in yourself. Nonono. You didn't really think the fae would act out against him. No, not Dave. You didn't think they would act out like this. Dave... You didn't think.

And you weren't thinking now. 

Had you been thinking, you would have realized that the air in the park stood strangely still. It stood frozen, stagnate, as you held your breath. It was calm, quiet, just like you.

Dave fell, and you shouted his name. You watched as his lips struggled to move. You watched the way his throat clenched but no sound came out. You watched as a small trickle of blood ran down his chin from where it made contact with the pavement. You watched as his head fell back to the ground as he lost consciousness. You watched the way the faerie dart rolled out of his hand as his body relaxed. 

You watched all of this with the calm, slow clarity of someone witnessing a traumatic event. You saw every detail, stored them away in your mind. But you weren't really there. It felt like you were watching a movie, like it wasn't happening to you. You didn't know how to react. Panic had torn you away from your body, separated you from yourself, and allowed your body to act on its own. 

After what felt like hours, but could only have been a few seconds, your eyes unfocused from Dave. You turned your head slowly, taking in the advancing figures. The fae. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen of them. You saw the big, hulking form of ogres, the squat and hunched form of goblins, the sleek scales and bulbous forms of an amphibious bunyip race, and the winged, horned, tailed forms of a fae race related to harpies. You took them all in with cold, accessing eyes. Thirteen lesser fae. Thirteen lowly creatures who didn't have magic and couldn't even form their own glamours. A baker's dozen of henchmen. Now where was their leader?

You didn't have to wait long.

The fae stopped in a circle around Dave's fallen form. They kept a wide but tight birth around him. You were outside the circle, and about half the eyes were on you. Then, on the opposite side of the circle, coming down the paved path towards Dave, was the kelpie.

He didn't use a glamour to change his body. Kelpies were shapeshifters. He was shaped like a man. Tall, lean, and powerful. He wore nothing but a tight black tank top, loose black pants, and a cape that whipped away from his shoulders and glimmered vaguely purple in the lamp light. His skin was dark and smooth, and a mane of black hair pushed back from his forehead. He had his hands clasped behind him and a smile on his lips. His walk was slow, measured, and almost careless, and he stopped when he reached the perimeter of the invisible circle.

His dark eyes weren't on Dave. They were on you. And when he spoke, his voice was crystal clear, deep, and grumbling, but some consonants ran together and slurred. Like a waterfall. "Run along now, wind sprite. The human. Is mine."

Somehow you found your voice, and although you could vaguely feel your lips moving and the vibration in your throat, you still weren't entirely connected to it. "Dave doesn't belong to anyone!"

"Do you understand how frequently I feast, little faerie? Once every moon cycle. I choose a body, and it is brought to me. I take it down into my hall, watch the life drain from their features in the light of a full moon, and spend the rest of the cycle enjoying the company of my prize. I do not take kindly to my meals being...interrupted." The kelpie smirked. He spoke slow and measured, like a lazy river, and not at all like he was talking about your friend's life. "This human stole my prize. And now his life is mine."

"No!" The leaves on the path stirred. You didn't realize your hands were clenched until you felt the pain of your nails digging into your palms.

"Yes," He replied calmly. He strode forward, stopping when he was hovering over Dave. His eyes were still on you. "You see, I already have permission to take this young human as my own, and seeing as he is unclaimed, there is nothing you can do to stop me." He crouched down next to Dave, resting his forearms on his knees. 

"Get away from him!" A wind picked up on the outer skirts of the park. It could be heard rustling through the trees, but it was still calm where you stood. 

The kelpie's eyes finally slid away from you and to Dave's limp form. "He's a pretty little thing, isn't he?" He reached out and took Dave's chin in his fingers, lifting his head and turning it toward him. He ran this thumb over Dave's lips. "He'll make a lovely bride."

You felt like you had been hit in the stomach. You had to remind yourself to breathe. "What?"

"Did you think I was merely going to kill him?" The kelpie's dark gaze found yours again. His lips were curved upward, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "No, that would be a waste and not a proper punishment. Don't worry your little head over that. He will live." The man stood. "I have permission to claim him and transform him into one of my fin folk. He'll live with me beneath the waves, and witness every kill I make. He'll dine with and on my prey. He'll be mine to do with what I see fit."

"No." You whispered. The tips of your scarf begins to float. You feel it lift off your back. 

"You, little fae child, have no say in the matter. Now float away." The kelpie turned his back on you and walked back the way he had come. He lifted a hand and idly waved it in the air. "Bring the boy." The faeries began to close in around Dave.

"No!" Your arm shot up and thrusted forward, palm out. A gust of wind whipped past you and toward the fae. You weren't thinking. You were acting. As the wind blew past you, through your hair, along your arm, pushing at your back, everything blurred and swirled. You had the sense of being thrown forward with amazing speed. Your body felt light. The wind seemed to cut through your very core.

Your vision cleared a moment later and you were hovering over Dave. Your eyes widened and you looked down at your hands. You didn't know you could do that.

No time to think about it. The fae around you had gotten over their shock and were once again moving toward you. 

Your hands curled into fists. "Back...OFF." You thrusted both arms out, unleashing a whirlwind that swirled away from you and pushed back the advancing henchmen. The kelpie had stopped and was half turned, watching you with mild interest. 

"Kill him." Was all he said. A few of the ogres rushed you, clubs in hand and raised. 

You instinctively reached for the hollow space in the air, in the space between places. Your mind called to your hammer as your hands closed around the leather bound grip. Then it was solid in your hands, pulled from the space between spaces. The weight of it was heavy and familiar, and your arms automatically adjusted to it. Jade had taught you that spell. It was one of her own. It allowed you to always have access to your weapon without having to carry it around. 

You glanced down at Dave. His shades were cracked, and the blood was drying on his chin. His hair fell against its natural swoop, exposing more of his forehead than you were used to seeing. He looked so vulnerable, and that scared you. Dave never looked vulnerable. Dave was always in control. A black dot was on his neck, and from it spread black lines, like crawling veins. It could have been your imagination, but the darkness seemed to pulse and spread as you watched. You needed to get Dave to safety. You need to get him help. Now. 

A deep and gargled shout brought your attention back to the advancing ogres. Your fingers tightened around your hammer. Then something inside you snapped. 

The calm before the storm had passed.

Wind exploded from you as you dove forward with a wordless shout. The world blurred and spun again, but you kept your focus on the nearest ogre. Your vision snapped into clarity as you materialized beside him. Your hammer came down at a vicious angle, taking him in the back. The creature's cry went up in pitch as it crumpled to the ground. 

Your eyes snapped to the others as they neared Dave, the world spun and sped up, then you were behind them. You swung at the legs of one, shattering its knees. As it went down, you carried the momentum, spun around, and slammed one of the blunt ends of your double sided hammer into the other's gut. 

A unanimous shout went up as the other ten fae henchmen charged you.

The fight was a blur. Your mind had stopped functioning. Your only thought was Dave. Save Dave. Save Dave. Your instincts did the rest. 

You whirled, swinging your hammer. It connected and you carried through the wing, using the momentum to hurl you through the wind to your next opponent. Your vision bounced between blurs and clarity. It happened all so fast, yet your body was moving through the motions without your mind having to catch up. Without you having to wonder just HOW you were moving with the wind.

You hadn't wanted, or cared, to learn how to fight. But ever since your fae self was revealed, Jade had been bugging you to learn. To train. She said the faerie world was rough, and you needed to know how to protect yourself. After just a few months of witnessing it, you had to agree. But you chose the hammer. You wanted to protect yourself, not slice and dice and kill with a sword. 

That didn't stop the feeling of satisfaction as you felt the faeries' bones crack and break beneath the strength of your swing. They would heal quickly, but you weren't going to make it easy on them. 

You shot through the wind toward one of the goblins, landing with your feet on the ground to steady yourself. He swung a knife at your bare feet. You jumped. A noise behind you, a shift in the air, and you knew another fae stood behind you. You ducked just as a sword blade sliced the air above you. With the hammer in a wide grip, you pulled back with the hand closest to the head, and out with the hand closest to the bottom. You slammed the end of the staff-like handle into the goblins face, knocking him to the side. Then spun on the balls of your feel, twirling the hammer in your grip. You stood up as you swung, catching the bunyip under the chin and cracking his head back. 

Here batter, batter, swing! 

You were already ghosting toward your next opponent. You weren't sure how long it lasted. Everything moved with a blurring speed and sluggish clarity. You darted from fae to fae, anything that moved. Some of them stood after being knocked down, so you knocked them down again. You felt bones give beneath your hammer, and the occasional drops of blood that looked like rubies flying through the air. They just reminded you of Dave's blood, and your efforts were doubled.

At one point, you had come to a stop next to one of the winged, horned creatures that reminded you of harpies, only more reptilian and bat-like. On its belt, you saw a blowgun. The hollowed out stick was decorated in much the same way as the dart that had rolled next to Dave's body. After knocking the fae to the ground, you made sure to bring your hammer down on the fae's hand, feeling the crunching bones vibrate up your weapon. Your stomach tensed and churned, but you didn't care. You felt satisfaction in it anyway. 

Beyond your circle of action, you were vaguely aware of the storm that raged. Gusts swirled and blew around the park, kicking up leaves, twigs, dirt, and debris. They spun around you in a wide birth, creating a cyclone of anger and rage that blocked any escape. 

You didn't stop until there was no more movement. Your eyes darted around, but the thirteen henchmen were all down for the count. The only one left standing was the kelpie. He stood outside your whirlwind barrier. Tall and dark, his hair and cape being pulled by the wind. He didn't flinch as debris hit him. He just watched you.

You were breathing heavily, floating in the middle of the cyclone. As you stared at him, your blind fury started to subside, and you slowly came back to yourself. You had been watching it all like you were outside. Watching, not experiencing. But you became aware of your breath, of the ache in your arms and hands. A couple spots burned, and you idly wondered if you had taken a few hits without realizing it. You became aware of your stomach. You felt like you were going to puke.

Dave. Save Dave. Save Dave. He needs help. Now.

You slowly fell to the ground, your feet landing and absorbing the weight of your body. Your legs mildly protested. Your eyes never left the kelpie as you released your grip on your hammer. It disappeared into nothing, returning to the space between. The water fae made no move to come after you, not that he would have been able to penetrate the whirlwind. But you could feel the animosity coming off him in waves. It was the same thing you had been feeling for weeks whenever Dave was in the park. Once, it had made you nervous. Now, you gave zero fucks. Your bag of fucks was empty. Your well of fucks had run dry. Your field of fucks was barren. This bastard wasn't going to lay another finger on Dave. Not as long as you had something to say about it.

Lips pressed together, you silently dared him to come toward you. He didn't. 

Dave. Save Dave. Save Dave.

As much as you wanted to ram your hammer into his gut and feel his jaw shatter under your fist, Dave needed help. Now. 

You turned from the fae, crouching down by Dave's side. He was still unconscious and the mark on his neck was spreading. 

"Fuck..." You whispered. You reached for him, cupping his cheek. "Fuck, Dave, I'm so sorry..." No time for a feelings jam now. You grabbed his arm, and, with a grunt of effort, managed to haul him onto your back, holding both his arms in front of you, over your shoulders. You could feel his breath in your ear. It was weak, and that scared you. After a moment of hesitation, you picked up the fallen dart and put it in your pocket, careful not to jab yourself.

Then you stood and faced the kelpie. 

"You won't get away with this." His voice was calm and even, but you could hear the anger bubbling beneath. 

You shifted your grip of Dave's wrists into one hand and lifted your other hand to the kelpie, giving him a grand view of your middle finger. "Fuck. Off." You said, keeping your tone just as calm and even, and trying to make it as threatening as you could. You let the wind carry your voice to him. "Dave. Is. MINE."

You took to the air and left the scattered bodies and one angry kelpie behind. The whirlwind died as you left, and you used the wind to boost you and your friend higher. You needed the extra boost with the deadweight on your back.

"Geez, fatass, lay off the doritos." You mumbled, and it made you feel better. But fear was starting to seep into your mind in the absence of rage.

Clouds boiled and rolled above you, and all around the city showed signs of a wind storm: leaves and debris cluttered the streets.

You could see the headlines now: "Tornado Wrecks City as Wind Sprite Fights for the Life and Honor of His Boyfriend."

Whoa, boyfriend? Where did that even come from? Friend. Dave was your friend. You didn't even know if tonight was supposed to be a date. You might never get to find out...

No. He'll be okay. Just have to get help.

You weren't sure where to go, so you went to the one place that felt safe: your apartment. You knew you would need Jade's help, but your place was closer. And she had the ability to get places quickly. So you gave her a quick call on your way, careful to keep Dave balanced on your back. You hung up just as you reached your building.

As you landed, you made sure Dave was covered by your glamour. Something you probably should have done before leaving the park, but you had been occupied with panic at the time. All you could do was hope that no one had noticed an unconscious blond guy floating through the sky at night. 

Getting your apartment unlocked was a little difficult, but after several tries and shifting Dave's weight around, you finally managed. Shuffling him through your messy studio apartment, you dumped him, a little ungracefully, on the bed. You climbed up after him, straightening out his limbs and pushing him onto his back. 

You bit your lip, hands hovering over his neck. The black, web-like veins covered an entire side of his neck and were creeping up his jaw and down his chest. You didn't know what the hell it was, but you knew it couldn't be good. You needed Jade.

"Come on, you douchebag, don't you dare die on me..." Unsure what to do while you waited, you decided to clean the blood off his chin. Wetting a towel, you returned to the bed and sat cross-legged beside him. The cut was a shallow one. More like a scrap that busted the skin along his jawline. You were glad it was opposite from the dart mark. You weren't entirely sure if it was safe to touch it. 

When you were done, you tossed the towel to the floor. His sunglasses caught your eye. One lens was cracked, and they were bent so they sat crookedly on his nose. Your heart hammered in your chest as you reached out and gently slid the shades away from his face. You couldn't help but feel like you were breaching his privacy, even though the dumb things couldn't do him any good while broken. 

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but Dave was normal under his shades. His blond lashes were long and delicate, making him look even more vulnerable. But what really caught your attention were his freckles. You had never noticed them before. But there they were. Little dots decorating his cheeks and nose. A-fucking-dorable. 

Your mouth felt suddenly dry. You gripped his shades in your fingers. Now was NOT the time to be noticing these things about Dave. Not when he had a nasty looking black mark spreading and possibly killing him. 

Oh god, what if Dave died?

Your door slammed open and you jumped, scrambling to put Dave's shades on your nightstand. You felt ridiculously guilty just holding them.

"Have no fear! Jade is here!" She stood in your doorway, a tote bag in her hand depicting some cartoon characters. She took one look at your face and frowned. "Geez, okay, no time for jokes. Lemme see him." 

She pushed the door shut behind her and moved quickly to the bed. You scrambled over Dave to his other side, careful not to jostle him too much. Jade crawled up into the spot you had just vacated, putting her bag down next to her. 

She let out her breath in a long whistle. "Yikes." Her hands hovered over Dave's neck as she examined it. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, one of your hands resting on Dave's upper arm. "Do you know what it is? Can you save him?"

Jade looked up at you through her lashes, her mouth twisting. "I think so, but it's a good thing you called me when you did. I brought everything I had, just in case." She waved a hand at her bag. 

She bent over Dave, putting her face close to his neck. Her ears, the fluffy white dog-like ears that stuck out from her mass of black hair, twitched. 

"Uh, Jade?"

She put a hand out toward you, one finger raised to shush. "Relax, John. I'm not trying to come onto your boyfriend. I'm just trying to sniff the wound for clues. You know I have a strong sense of smell."

You frowned, your brows furrowing. "He's not my boyfriend."

She ignored you. "Do you have the dart?"

"Yes!" You reached into your pocket, careful not to jab your fingers, and held it out to her. "I picked it up in case it might come in handy."

"I think it might." She took it from you with cautious fingers. She turned it this way and that before lifting it to her nose to sniff. Her ears went down, and she made a face. "Blech, this is some nasty stuff."

"Yeah, no shit, Jade. Have you seen his neck?"

She frowned at you. "No need to get testy. Do you want my help or not?"

You sighed, running your free hand through your hair, tugging slightly at the roots. "Ugh, I'm sorry, it's just...look at him."

She smiled, reaching over Dave to lay a hand on your shoulder. "It'll be okay, John. I know you're worried and I know you care about him, but you have to trust me. Now tell me what happened."

And so you did. You told her about meeting up with Dave before going to the movies (and told her he was NOT your boyfriend, stop waggling your eyebrows, Jade), about the faerie ambush, and everything the kelpie said to you. Just repeating his words made you angry. Your hands were balling into fists again. Who was he to claim Dave? Jade had told you claiming a human wasn't a process to take lightly. 

While you spoke, Jade was rummaging through her bag, pulling out bundles of herbs, vials and bottles of liquid, bags of powder, and solid bricks of condensed something-or-another. She sniffed them all, and you watched the way her facial expressions changed. Sometimes disappointed, sometimes thoughtful, sometimes confused, and sometimes victorious. She set out several things, but returned everything else to her bag. 

You had never seen her bag before, but you had seen her workroom. It was covered in floor to ceiling with shelves that were packed with this kind of stuff. You didn't know what the majority of it was, but some things you did recognize from their labels: eye of newt, wolfsbane, hemlock root, troll fat, bat blood, spider eyes. From the pure quantity of things she was pulling out of her bag, you were willing to bet there was one of those space hollow spells on it. Like where you kept your hammer. 

You finished your story and watched. She had been nodding to let you know she was listening, but now that it was over, she just continued to pull things out, sniff them, and either set them aside or put them back. 

"Is there anything in your Mary Poppins bag that will help?" You asked, trying your best not to sound impatient, but, well, you were impatient. Dave's breathing was starting to sound ragged and strained. Couldn't Jade hear that? You breathed heavily through your nose, forcing it to go slow. Like somehow you could breathe for him.

She gave you a small glare and matching smile. "Glad you noticed my bag. You joke, but I was actually inspired by Mary Poppins, though instead of some old carpet bag that grandpa had laying around, I chose to go with something more fun." The next vial she pulled out was small, and the label was too tiny for you to read. She unlatched the hinged cork and pushed it open with her thumb. "A-ha!" She picked up the dart, sniffed, then sniffed the vial again. "Just like I thought." She recorked the vial and set it aside. 

You perked up. "What? What is it? An antidote?" 

She gave you a sad smile. "Unfortunately, a simple antidote would be easy but isn't going to happen. No, don't give me that face. Stop giving me that lip and the puppy eyes, John. I can probably make one once I figure out all the ingredients and what they're supposed to do." She closed her bag and gathered up all the things she had set aside, moving them to your small kitchen table. 

"What was in the a-ha bottle?"

"Kelpie blood."

"What?!" Revulsion filled your stomach. Dave had that bastard's blood coursing through his veins? Was THAT why his neck looked so bad? Your grip on his shoulder tightened. 

"Any type of faerie spell or potion that uses blood is powerful. Especially if they use their own blood. I don't know exactly what he was trying to do, but claiming Dave was probably part of the deal."

"How long is it going to take?" Dave's breathing was grating on your ears, stirring up panic. 

"I think I have all the ingredients, and I have some ideas, but I need a second opinion." She pulled out her phone, pressed a few buttons, and put it to her ear. 

"This isn't time for a social call, Jade!"

"I know that, John. I'm not stupid. I'm calling an expert."

"Who's that?"

She held up a finger, telling you to be silent. You pressed your lips together and frowned, waiting. Whoever was on the other line picked up, and what Jade said next made your mouth fall back open as you gawked at her.

"Rose! I need your help. It's Dave... I figured you might...it was a dart with some kind of poison, I think. But more than that. His neck looks pretty bad... yeah, of course. John! Take a picture of Dave's neck and send it to Rose."

"But-"

"No butts, mister!"

"I don't have her number." You managed to say, your wits coming back to you. 

She signed. "Then use Dave's phone!"

She hovered over the kitchen table, one hand on her hip, surveying all the things she had pulled out. "I think I've isolated all the ingredients, but it's all so muddled!.. Let's see, we have kelpie blood, water hemlock, spider eyes..."

Jade continued on her list, but you tore your attention away and started to look for Dave's phone. You found it in his pocket. You had the feeling, again, that you were invading his privacy. Which was ridiculous, because you were trying to save his life. Dave's phone, unfortunately, had a passcode on it. 

"Uuuugh, Dave, you fuckwad, why can't you make this easy?!" You grumbled, trying a few, easy combinations. It was ten digits long, and you had just a number pad to work with. Knowing Dave, it was probably something stupid. You tried DAVEISCOOL. Nope. DAVEISBEST. Nope. GETAWAYBRO. Nope. ROSEISNERD. Nope. JOHNISRADD. Nope. DORITOSYUM. Nope. APPLJC4LYF. Nope. Ugh. Fuck this guy. Hmm. FUKTHISGUY. Nope. Damn. You were never going to get in. 

"Have you sent that picture?" Jade called from the little nook of a kitchen across the room. 

"No, Dave has a stupid passcode on his phone."

"Rose says try the Konami code."

You stared at her. "Are you fucking serious?"

She shrugged, and so you tried it, using 2 as the up arrows, 8 as the down arrows, 4 as left arrows, and 6 as right arrows. It unlocked after B A. 

"Oh my fucking god. Dave you are the king of nerds." You took a picture of his neck and sent it to Rose before clicking off his phone and setting it aside. "Sent it."

"Good. Rose, you should be getting it in a second."

"So Rose is your expert? Does she know who... what we are?"

Jade raised an eyebrow at you. "You've seen the mark on her arm, haven't you?"

You rubbed the back of your neck. "Well, yes, but I didn't know YOU knew her. Or that she was an expert of fae voodoo magic shit!"

"John, we'll do this later. We have work to do."

"Can I help?"

Her voice softened. "Just keep him comfortable."

Your lips pressed together, but you nodded. Jade went back to her conversation with Rose. You wanted to help, but you knew you couldn't do it with an antidote. That knowledge was beyond you. But Rose. She knew enough about it? Just how much fae stuff did she know? And she knew Jade! Jade had never told you that. You wanted answers, but you knew now wasn't the time. Not when Dave's life was probably on the line.

His breathing was still ragged and strained, like he couldn't get enough air. And he looked paler, though you weren't sure if he actually was paler, or if it was just his skin in contrast to the black mark that was creeping up past his jawline and across his adams apple. A thin sheen of sweat was starting to break out on his face and his lips looked cracked and dry, so you crawled off the bed and got a fresh wet rag and a cup of water. 

You gently moped up his face, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped and fluttered. It was probably the panic that hadn't ever really gone away, though you did feel much better with Jade here. Setting the rag aside, you scooted toward his head and wrapped an arm around the back of his shoulders, trying to prop him up a little. You rested his head against your side. Putting the cup to his lips, you tried to make him drink.

He sputtered for a second, and coughed a little, but then his body's reflexes took over and he drank. You set the cup aside and, after a moment's hesitation, ran your fingers through his hair. 

"It's gonna be okay." You said softly, though you weren't sure if you meant it to comfort him or you. "Jade's here, and Rose is helping her. If anyone can figure it out, it's those two." You weren't sure if you were paranoid, but it sounded like his breathing was getting worse. His chest heaved with the effort, and his adams apple bobbed. It drew your attention to his neck, where you noticed something that you hadn't before.

"Uhhh, Jaaaaade." You said, trying to keep your calm, but panic was creeping up your throat. You had to remind yourself to breathe, lest the panic choke you.

"John, I'm kinda busy right now." She was hunched over the table. She had a pot on your stove that was starting to boil something. She held the phone wedged between her cheek and her shoulder as she ripped the leaves off of one of the bundles of herbs. 

"Jade, I think you should see this."

She sighed loudly, obviously annoyed with your interruption. She set the plants down and, with the phone still held to her ear, walked over to the bed. 

"John, what is it-" You were pointing at his neck, and once she saw what you were pointing at, she cut herself off. "Rose, I think I know what part of the spell is supposed to do." 

The black spider web pattern on Dave's neck covered an entire side, reaching up to jaw and down below his shirt. The lines grew thicker near where the dart had hit him, making his skin nearly completely black. Thin lines of web reached across his throat to the other side. Where the lines were thickest, his skin was starting to change. You hadn't been able to tell at first, not with the woven lines making it hard to see. But ridges were starting to rise on the side of Dave's neck. Ridges that were definitely not there before, and definitely shouldn't be there now. 

"What is it?" You asked, worried by the alarm in Jade's voice. 

"John," Jade was making an effort to stay calm. Probably for your benefit. But her eyes were bright with curiosity and intrigue and what you think was excitement. You could tell she had never seen something like this, and she wanted to figure it out. But there was also an air of urgency and worry about her. "Go fill the bathtub."

"What?" That wasn't what you were expecting her to say. Your mouth hung open for a second before anger filled you. "Jade, what the hell? This isn't the time to take a bath. Just tell me what the fuck is wrong with Dave."

You could hear the sound of Rose's voice through Jade's phone, but you couldn't hear her words. 

"Yup, I think that's exactly what's happening."

"Jade!"

"John, go fill the bath tub."

Your fingers curled into Dave's shoulder and hair. Your breath was coming faster, even as Dave's was weak and strained. "Why?!"

"John, I need you to stay calm. But Dave is growing gills, and I'm not completely sure he'll be able to breathe when they're done."


	9. Bathtub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Dave is a fish in a bathtub.

Your name is John Egbert, and Dave is heavy as shit.

If he survived this, you were going to put him on a diet, because damn, boy was heavy when unconscious. Even with your hammer arms and Jade helping, it was difficult to haul that lardass across your apartment and into the bathroom.

Okay, so you weren't being completely fair. From what you could feel when you tried to move him, Dave was actually pretty in shape. His muscles had some tone to them that you tried your best not to notice. Plus, people were always heavier when they were dead weight. But you were frustrated and barely keeping the panic from choking you, so if you felt better by calling him a lardass, then by fuck you were going to call him a lardass. 

Despite your apartment being a studio apartment, it was actually pretty spacious. The main room was large enough that you could easily split it into a bedroom area and a living room area. The kitchen was a tiled section off to the side with basic kitchen things: stove, sink, dishwasher, fridge, and was wide enough to have a small table. Your bathroom was the only room actually sectioned off, and it ended up being bigger than you anticipated for an apartment this size. Your tub was bigger than average, and more of an oval than a rectangle. Like a big fancy hotel bathtub shower combo. It gave you a lot of room while taking a shower, so you didn't feel like you were cramped in a box. The size meant it could probably accommodate Dave better, but at the moment, you could only think about how long it was taking to fill.

By the time it was done, Dave's neck was covered in the black veins. They were widening, turning his neck to more of a solid color with only specks of his skin tone peeking through. They did, however, stop at his jawline, with only a few thin webs reaching toward his cheeks, and just under his collar bone, with some reaching downward. It looked like it wanted to spread more, but it didn't. And that, at least, was a relief. But the ridges were starting to form on the other side of his neck, and so you and Jade heaved him off the bed and half carried, half dragged him to the bathroom. 

Getting him in the tub wasn't a very graceful moment either. Sitting him propped up against the tub, you and Jade argued over how much of his clothing to remove before dumping him in. You both agreed that his hoodie, socks, and shoes had to go. Jade thought he needed it all gone, because who takes a bath with their clothes on. But he wasn't taking a bath, you argued. Plus, Dave wouldn't be too happy when he woke up naked. Jade asked weren't you curious. You said no! This was about Dave's life, not what went on in his pants! A blush rose to your cheeks, bright blue. Finally the two of you compromised. You would take off his jeans, because wet jeans were super uncomfortable, even you had to agree. But he would keep his boxers and his tshirt. 

Jade got his shoes and hoodie, and you struggled with his pants. Why the hell were they so tight anyway? Who wears pants like that? Sure, they looked nice on him, but they made it hella hard to remove. By the time he was stripped, his chest was heaving violently and his mouth had dropped open slightly, gasping for air. His brow was furrowed and his face tense, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. His body was starting to twitch, and the twitches were quickly growing to spasms. 

"Quick, get him in!" You said, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. Jade grabbed his arms and you grabbed his legs, and together you heaved him up and over the edge of the tub. You tried to set him down gently, but he slipped a little in your grip, and you ended up sloshing a good deal of water over the edge of the tub. Maybe you had filled it too high. With his feet near the faucet and his back leaning against the slopped opposite end, you adjusted his limbs so he fit. His legs had to be bent a little, but that couldn't be helped. 

You looked at Jade, your brow furrowed in worry. His breathing wasn't better. "Now what?"

Jade looked from you to Dave, frowning. She tapped her chin in thought, then reached out. "What if we just..." She put a hand on his head and pushed down until his chin was just over the water and his neck was submerged. 

You both waited. You held your breath. Jade wrung her hands. 

Slowly, Dave's breathing began to relax. His chest stopped struggling, the tension in his face drained away, and the hoarseness that he had been breathing with went away. He seemed perfectly normal, except for the fact that his neck was black and he was laying in a bathtub with clothes on. 

"Yes!" You threw your hands up in the air, but your victory was short lived as the realization dawned on you. Your fists came down on the edge of the tub. "Dammit! Jade he was going to turn Dave into a fucking fish!" 

"That's what it looks like." 

"Uuuugh! Fuck him! Fuck him! FUCKHIM!" You banged your fists on the tub until they hurt. "Jade, you guys have to fix him." You whispered, your sudden burst of anger subsiding just as quickly as it came. You felt tired and defeated. You just wanted Dave back. You wanted to go on your movie date and see where it led. And to your horror, your felt the telltale prickle of unshed tears in your eyes. 

No. You weren't going to cry. You weren't going to fucking cry. You blinked them away.

Jade rested her hand on your shoulder. "I'll do my best." She stood and went back to the kitchen where she had left her phone, Rose still on the line. You heard her talking again, but you weren't paying attention. 

You sat next to the tub and rested an arm on the edge, putting your chin on your arm. The ridges, the GILLS, on Dave's neck were moving a little, and you had to look away. They made you sick. So instead you focused on Dave's face. He looked so peaceful. Boy, was he going to be pissed when he woke up. WHEN. Not if. 

Despite his breathing returning to normal, he still looked sickly pale. You reached forward and put a hand to his forehead, careful not to touch his eyebrow piercing. You were surprised by how hot his skin was. 

"Jade." You called out.

You heard her voice from the kitchen. "What?"

"I think he has a fever."

"I know, I'm working on it."

"What do you mean, you know?" You turned and stared out the bathroom door. You couldn't see her.

"I felt it earlier. It's probably the poison. I'm working on an antidote."

"What?!"

"John, just calm down and keep an eye on him. I got this."

You huffed a sigh and returned to staring at Dave, resting your chin on the edge of the tub. You let your fingers idly trail in the water. 

"If you die, I'm going to punch you in the face." You said to your unconscious friend. 

It seemed like ages before Jade came bustling back into the bathroom. You had been staring at Dave's legs, transfixed by the blond hair there, moving with the water, but not really seeing it. You looked up as Jade entered. She had a cup in her hand and a smile on her face. 

"Hold him up while I give him this." She said, and you immediately moved toward his head, propping him up with an arm around his shoulders. Jade moved next to you and gently put the cup to his lips.

"What is that?" You asked as she held his mouth open and slowly poured in the liquid. Some of it trailed out of the corner of his lips. It looked thick, black, and nasty. And it didn't smell too great either. Your nose wrinkled. 

"An antidote for the poison in that dart...I hope."

"Jade..." Your voice was an approachable warning.

"Okay, John, this isn't easy. There was a lot in that dart, and some of it was a poison, some of it was a spell, and some of it was to knock him unconscious. I got all the ingredients, but Rose and I are trying to separate what was used in what part. We're like, ninety percent sure we got the poison right, and this SHOULD be the antidote to that. It's a pretty common poison among the fae."

Dave's throat worked automatically to swallow the liquid. You watched, worried. 

"Why would the kelpie poison him? He wanted Dave as his sea bride or whatever."

Jade shrugged, tilting the cup up to get out every last drop. "I'm not sure. Probably to make sure he was cooperative. It's a slow acting poison. My guess is the knock out stuff would wear off by the time they got him in the river, then the kelpie would only give him the antidote if he agreed to go through with the claiming ritual. It requires a little bit of cooperation to claim a human, you know." You nodded. She had already told you about that when you asked a few days ago. "By that point, the gill slash fin folk spell would be complete and Dave would be stuck underwater and slowly dying. I'm sure the kelpie thought he could persuade him. They've got those hypno-eyes."

"Yeah, I know." You said, remembering the pull of the kelpie the night Dave saved your neighbor from the kelpie's clutches. Dave had almost given in then, and probably would have died if you hadn't saved him. 

She removed the cup from his lips and tried to wipe away the black stains running down from his mouth. She hissed and pulled back her hand, shaking it in the air. You looked at her, eyebrows raised in question. 

She gave you a small shrug, still shaking her hand. You could smell the slight stench of burnt flesh. "I touched his lip ring." She said by way of explanation. 

You gave her an amused smile. "Been there, done that."

She set aside her pain for a moment to waggle her eyebrows at you. "Oh, I'm sure you have."

Your hands were busy holding Dave upright, so you kicked her in the side. "Go work on reversing this spell."

She was laughing as she stood, but them sobered up. "Okay, but this will take longer."

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. "As long as he doesn't die and he's not a fish forever."

Jade brightened. "If we can't find anything, we can always get him a big fish tank to keep him in. We can buy big fake castles and scuba divers to decorate."

You couldn't help the small smile. "Just don't tap the glass. It'll make him nervous."

"You know you will."

"Yeah, you're right." 

She left, and you turned back to Dave, feeling a little better. At least Dave probably wasn't going to die. You could already see color returning to his cheeks. 

Now you just had to figure out what to say to him when he woke up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You think your name is Dave Strider, but who really cares anyway?

You certainly didn't. You were floating on a cloud of nothingness, surrounded by a void of dark, comforting bliss. You had attempted to touch the ground, but it hurt too much. Pain radiated through your veins. You wanted nothing to do with that. Fuck that. The void felt so much better. As long as you didn't stare to long above. Then you started to see and hear things. Dark things. You didn't want anything to do with that either. You were perfectly fine in this limbo. Floating in limbo. Floating...

Floating reminded you of... what was his name? Someone. Floating reminded you of someone who floated on the breeze. You couldn't remember a name, just the color blue. Blue in the darkness around you. That color brought feelings out. Warm feelings, tinged with... nervousness? Something queasy. But a good kind a queasy. A fluttering. 

You thought of drifting downward, toward the stable ground, to remember what this name was, but there were too many chaotic emotions down there. Pain. Physical pain. And emotions. It was a storm, and you were safer above it. It was easier this way. You weren't sure you ever wanted to go down. But you didn't want to go up either. Here. In the middle. This was good. 

You weren't sure how long you floated there, drifting on the calming breeze of nothingness. It would have been hours, days, or seconds. Time meant nothing in the void. You controlled time. Time was a servant to you, not the other way around. Time could fuck off. 

Slowly, so subtly that you didn't notice it at first, you started to hear things. It wasn't the deep, chaotic grumble of the things above. It was something else. You realized you had been floating lower and lower, toward the ground. But the pain that you had fled from before wasn't there anymore. Once you became aware of the sounds, you tried to pick them out. Voices? Several voices? Music? It all just blended together into different pitches and rhythms, with no rhyme or reason. You strained to make sense of it. Several voices AND music. Sound effects? 

Then you were touching the ground, and you were sucked out of your nothingness and suddenly aware of several things all at once. 

Your body hurt. Not an active, sharp kind of hurt, but a dull throbbing ache. Like you had sporadically run a marathon without any sort of prior training. You felt weak, and your limbs felt heavy. You weren't sure you could move them if you tried. There was a pulsing in your neck, you pulse maybe, that alternated between pain and cooling relief. 

You still felt like you were floating, drifting. Your skin felt like it was drifting through thick air.

Sounds were sharper. It was all so chaotic, and you struggled to make sense of it. 

You struggled to make sense of everything, anything.

Your name WAS Dave Strider, but what had happened? You lived with your brother, and you worked with your cousins. You were... going out with... about to go to the movies... you were in the park... John. John was the name of the blue that you had felt before. John Egbert. 

You had been walking through to park toward him when you were attacked. You had passed out, and you didn't remember anything after that. 

Sudden fear and panic grounded you firmly in your body. You struggled to open your eyes. White. A lot of white and tile. Silver. Faucet. Curtain rod. Soap. Your boxers under the water. You were in a bathtub. That at least explained why you still had the strange floating sensation. Your body was underwater. 

The sounds drew your attention to the side. It took a lot of effort to roll your head to the side. Someone was there. Sitting against the tub with their back to you. Messy dark hair. Black glasses.

John. 

Your eyes drifted upward. Perched on the counter, next to the sink, was a laptop. On the screen, a movie was playing. That explained all the sounds. Voices, music, and sound effects. They suddenly all made more sense. Your brain was slowly catching up to your senses and processing everything. You stared at the movie, trying to make sense of it. Men in ridiculous jumpsuits. Guns attached to backpacks. Terrible special effects and dialogue. Ghosts. Billy Murray. 

You licked your lips. They were dry, cracked, and tasted terrible. Your throat was also dry, and when you finally found your voice, it was scratchy and raw. 

"This... is a terrible movie." 

John jumped, dumping some of the popcorn from the bowl on his lap onto the floor. His head whipped around so fast, you weren't sure how he didn't get whiplash. "Dave?" He gawked at you, mouth open. Then he repeated, much softer. "Dave?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out." You croaked. Why did talking hurt so bad? It also echoed strangely. You weren't sure how to explain it. Just...different.

He shifted all the way around, setting his popcorn bowl aside. His eyes never left yours. "Are you okay? How do you feel?" His beautiful blue, slanted eyes were huge and filled with worry. He reached out and touched your forehead. His hands were cool against your skin. 

"Like I got hit by a truck and dragged through the mud before being dumped off a cliff onto some cactuses. Water?"

"Oh! Yeah, be right back. Don't move." He got up and rushed out of the room before you could add a sarcastic reply. What did he think you were going to do? Get up? You could barely moves your hands, let alone sit up.

He came back and held out a cup to you. You stared at it for a long, hard moment, then met his eyes. You cleared your throat, ignoring the dull throb of pain. "Could you, um..."

"Yeah." Without you needing to explain further, he held the cup to your lips and slowly tipped it back. You drank greedily. When you were done and he removed it, you gasped for air, feeling a strange cold rush in your neck. Your throat already felt better, but your voice still sounded strange. 

You licked your lips again, grimacing. He was still staring at you. Did you really look that bad? "Why does my mouth taste like rotten ass?"

John's mouth quirked into a smile and he tilted his head to the side. "How do you know what rotten ass tastes like, Dave?"

You rolled your eyes and glared at him. "Because I'm a connoisseur of all thing ass. Just answer my goddamn question, Egbert."

His smile faded slightly. "It's probably the antidote Jade made. It looked and smelled like crap. Probably tasted like it, too."

"Antidote?" The dart. You had been hit in the neck with a faerie dart. Was that why your neck felt sore? Was that why you looked terrible enough that he was staring at you so hard?

"You were poisoned." He said softly and slowly, like he wasn't sure how you well you were going to process this news. 

"Yeah, I figured that was probably the case after I pulled a dart from my neck and passed out. Who's Jade?"

"My friend... Cousin? We're related somehow, I'm not really sure how. She's an expert on stuff like this. I called her for help."

A million and five questions flew through your mind. There was so much you needed to know. So much to catch up on. They all rushed towards your mouth at once, but only one could come out. "John."

"Yeah?" He was on his knees next to the tub, facing you, looking at you like you were some porcelain doll that would fucking break at any moment. No one ever looked at you like that. Striders were made of some tough shit. 

"Where are we?"

"My apartment."

"Why am I in your bathtub in my underwear?"

He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, and shut it again. Like a gasping fish. Then he looked away and frowned, his brows furrowing together. 

"Did we have some crazy night I don't remember? Like I understand if you wanted to ravish me or whatever. I mean, look at me? Who wouldn't? But I don't get how the bathtub comes into play? Any why my clothes are still on? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate keepin my privacy, but I wouldn't blame ya if you had wanted to get a sneak peek."

"Dave." John's eyes snapped to you, wide with embarrassed horror. "I wasn't...we didn't... it's not like that!"

You quirked a small smirk. "I know, dude. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

He looked like he wanted to hit you. In fact, he lifted a hand like he was going to, then thought better of it and lowered it to the edge of the tub. "You're an ass." You almost wished he would have gone through with it. You didn't like how he was looking at you. It made you feel vulnerable. Like you were broken and you didn't even know it. 

"I know. So what's up with this bath? I'd get up if I could, but pretty much everything hurts and feels like it's been run over by a stampede of elephants wearing heels, so I think I'll stay right here."

"Dave, I..." He closed his mouth and looked away again. Then up and chewed on his bottom lip. "I don't know how to tell you this..." He tapped his fingers on the edge of the tub. You watched him. Your eyes drifted from his blue knuckles to his blue collar bones, so fine and defined.

"Out with it, Egbert." Your eyes drifted up his pale neck to the pointed ears. 

Wait a minute...

"It's a really long story. Um, so, do you believe in... things that aren't human? Like, I donno... faeries?"

Your eyes widened in horror. Shit. With an extreme amount of effort, and ignoring the ache in your body, you lifted a hand to your face. Wet fingers ran droplets of water down your face, but you didn't care. Shit. Fuck. No wonder everything looked so white. It should have been shaded and darker. Shit. Fucking shit. 

Was that why he was looking at you like you were a fucking freak? Because he could see your eyes?

"John..."

"Okay, I know it sound ridiculous. But I'm not crazy. If you wanna know what happened, you have to at least pretend to believe me when I say faeries are real. But not like, Tinker Bell fairies or pixies. Okay, pixies are real, but they're not the norm."

"John."

"The reason why you don't know about them is they're normally invisible unless they use this thing called glamour. And I can prove it to you, cause, well..."

"John." You tried to keep your voice even and calm, but there was something there that made John finally look at you. "Where are my shades?"

"Oh, they're on my nightstand. You don't need them though. We're inside..." His voice trailed off, and he must have noticed the panic on your face. You tried to keep it under control, but without your shades, you weren't sure how well you could hide your thoughts.

Whether it was your ability to hide your thoughts, or John's cluelessness, you weren't sure. But he just sat there and stared at you, head cocked to the side as he eyed you with confused curiosity. 

You sighed, running a wet hand through your hair. Your shoulder was stiff. "I can see you."

He snorted a half-laugh. "Yeah, and I can see you. I have eyes, Dave. What's your point."

"John..." You said slowly, holding his gaze and making sure you had his complete attention. He was going to figure it out eventually. Better make it on your terms, so at least you would have some semblance of control. "I. Can. See. You."

You counted, holding your breath. It took John approximately five seconds for everything to sink in. You saw it the moment everything clicked. His eyes widened a fraction, if that was possible, and lit up. His jaw slackened, lips parting. And his eyebrows shot up. 

"I'm not... wearing my glamour..." His breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shook your head just a fraction, saying the only thing you could think to. "Nope." You sounded vaguely amused. That was good. It hid your less cool, more chaotic emotions. Your heart felt like it was trying to beat out of your chest, and if your hands weren't already wet, you were sure they'd be sweating.

"And you can..."

"Yup."

He self consciously touched an ear and, hilariously, tried to cover his chest. "You don't...look surprised?"

The corner of your lip twitched with ironic, dry humor. "Nope."

"The eyes?"

You pressed your lips together. "What about them?" You asked stiffly, sounding more defensive than you meant to. You had to curl your fingers into fists under the water to keep from hiding your eyes. You held his gaze.

"I...thought they were part of the kelpie's spell?"

This was news to you. "The what now?"

"So they're not?"

You sighed. You were getting tired of this. You hadn't meant to give yourself away. You weren't sure you were ever going to tell John about your sight. You certainly hadn't been planning on it. You weren't planning on letting any faerie know. Not after Texas. But you had been so disoriented when you woke up. And he had been stupid enough to be sitting there without his glamour on. You hadn't even noticed it wasn't up. You hadn't even noticed your shades weren't on. Not until it was too late. 

But now that the cat was out of the bag, you were ready to get over it. There were a lot more pressing things that you needed to know. Like what the fuck this spell was John was talking about. You'd just have to deal with the consequences of your secret getting out later. Like what Dirk was going to say. Jesus fuck, you really didn't want to face him right now.

"Look, okay, here's the deal. These are my eyes, in all their freaky demonic red glory. Born with 'em and lived with 'em all my life. The reason why they're so fucking creep-tastic is because I have second sight. I don't know if you know what that means, because you seem pretty innocent about all the fae stuff, but it means I can see the fae realm. Always have. So yes, I know about faeries. That's why I wear sunglasses, so the bastards don't find out. No offense. Now can we get on with it?"

He stared at you for a long moment, his lips doing a bunch of things as he worked through what you just said: pressing together, gaping, frowning, twisting. You waited, impatiently and self consciously, for him to speak. Now that you realized he could see your eyes, your entire face even, it was making you uncomfortable. No one really ever saw your face. Except for Rose, Roxy, and...well not even Dirk anymore. 

Finally, his brows knit together and he said, very loudly. "You've seen me the whole time?!"

His outburst surprised you. You blinked. "Yup."

He jumped to his feet, flailing his arms as he made all the connections. "So when we first met, and you saved the girl, and I... And every day in the park... And the time I...? All the times I... When we played Smash Bros, and you got too close, and..." He looked at you again, helplessness written all over his features. His cheeks were flushed a deep blue.

You couldn't help but smile. You had been worried about this moment. Terrified even, to let your secret be known. But John's overwhelming embarrassment was adorable and hilarious enough to overshadow your own emotions. "Yes, the time you saved my life with some mouth-to-mouth lip action. Our first kiss, by the way." He groaned and you continued to count off on your fingers. "Yes, every day in the park. Like the time you fucking tickled me. Not cool, bro. And all those games you played with the leaves and the tripping me, knocking my hood off, and all the other shit. And yes, when I burned your face with my ear piercings. Sorry about that, by the way. It looked like it hurt something wicked."

"Fuuuuuck." He sank to his knees, crossed his arms on the edge of the bathtub, and buried his face in them. Even the tips of his ears were more flushed than usual. "Fuuuuck, why didn't you tell me you could see me so I could stop making an ass out of myself?"

"It's not exactly something I go around advertising, Egbert. Kinda a family secret. The only reason you know now is because I was delusional as fuck when I woke up and you were stupid enough to be sitting there without a glamour." He groaned again, kind of like an exasperated sigh. Your arms still ached, but it was like being hella sore after an intense training session with Dirk. Nothing you couldn't handle. You cupped both hands, and dumped water on his head. 

"Dave! What the fuck?" He sat up quickly, throwing water everywhere. You grinned as his hair stuck to his face and water ran down his neck and shoulders. He wasn't wearing his scarf or his elbow length gloves. Just his pants. Still less dressed than you. And you were in a bathtub. 

"Alright, time to stop your moping. I can see you. I know about the fae world. Now can we move past that so you can tell me what the hell happened and what I'm doing here?" You let your hands splash back into the water. "And can I get out? I feel like a fucking prune."

"Yeah, no. You can't." He said, putting a hand on your shoulder when you tried to sit up. You glared at him, but stayed silent, waiting for him to explain. He ran a hand through his hair. Half-wet, it stuck up and stayed that way. "So, you believe in faeries, so that'll make this easier."

"I do believe in faeries. I do, I do." You mumbled, and he splashed you. 

He smiled, but it quickly faded. Replaced by a sobering, serious look. "Remember when you saved that girl from the kelpie? Did you ever notice the angry evil rawr waves whenever you were in the park?"

"Yes." You said slowly, feeling a rising sense of dread.

"Okay, so the kelpie was basically pissed. And apparently people-eating shape-shifting sea horses hold grudges. He kinda got his lesser fae henchmen to poison you with that dart."

"I remember seeing them before I passed out." You also remembered John's terrified face, and thinking it was the last time you were going to see him.

John leaned back and rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't looking at you. "Well he apparently wanted to kidnap you and force you to be his underwater bride and force you watch him kill every month and I don't really know what else, but he was going to claim you and keep you with him."

You blinked. That wasn't what you were expecting. Kill you, yeah, maybe. Fae have tried to kill you before. They were bastards like that. But... claim you as their bride? That was a new one.

And it was terrifying. 

"How did we get here?"

He looked sheepish. "Heh, well, I kind of kicked their asses and brought you here?"

Your eyebrows went up and you snorted. "You? You kicked their asses? As in fighting?"

He glared at you. "I can fight, Dave. Why is that so surprising?"

"Cause you're..." You waved a hand at him. "You." He was so goofy and innocent. You couldn't imagine him fighting anyone.

He pushed himself to his feet, frowning at you. "I know how to defend myself." He held out a hand, and suddenly a large battle hammer shimmered into existence in his grip. Leather strips were wrapped around the handle for gripping, and the head shimmered silver. It must not have been metal though, because it didn't burn him. His arm adjusted to the weight of it and he slung it over his shoulder, his other hand on his hip. He grinned proudly. "See?"

"Yeah, I see alright." What you saw was the way his arms bulged and the muscles in his shoulders and chest rippled. Yeah, okay, so maybe he had some muscle definition that you hadn't noticed before. That didn't mean he could fight. But damn, did he look fine. 

And that was a train of though you weren't allowed to follow, seeing as you were laying there in your boxers. The water was getting cold though, so that helped. 

You cleared your throat. "So assuming you beat them into tar and got away with me, that still doesn't answer why I'm in a bathtub." You had a sneaking suspicion that you didn't want to know the answer. The kelpie was involved, and a spell, so it couldn't be good. Your neck felt strange. You watched to scratch it, but you had a feeling you shouldn't touch it. Not before John could warn you about whatever the hell that dart did to you.

"I DID beat them into tar, and then flew you away. You're heavy a shit by the way, dude, lay off the Doritos." He let go of the hammer and it disappeared. Fucking faerie magic voodoo shit. He sat on the toilet, resting his elbows on his knees and animating with his hands as he talked. "Anyway, I called Jade. She knows a lot about this faerie stuff. She came over and brought all her potion ingredient shit and figured out everything that was in whatever was in that dart."

One eyebrow went up. "How the fuck did she do that?"

John pointed to his nose. "She's got like super smell, so she just sniffed the dart a bunch and sniffed everything in her ingredient stash."

"Oh, of course. What the fuck was I thinking." You said with heavy sarcasm. 

"Shut up, Dave. It worked and she saved your life. Well, her and Rose."

"Rose?" Well, crap.

"Yeah, apparently Jade and Rose know each other."

Of fucking course. Jade was THAT Jade. Rose's fae friend and confidant, Jade. The Seer will guide The Witch. So Jade was the witch? No wonder she was good with potions. It was probably right up her ally. "So Rose knows what happened?"

John nodded. "After they figured out what poison was used, Jade made an antidote and we gave it to you. Heh, that's probably what that rotten ass taste is."

"Remind me to thank them." You grumbled.

"So they took care of the poison, but there was still a spell or potion or something in that dart that the kelpie made. So Jade went to RoLa's to help Rose do research to figure out how to reverse it. It... might take a few days." He sounded apologetic.

Panic made your stomach turn. You clenched your fists to resist the urge to scratch your neck. You gritted your teeth in an attempt to keep your voice calm. "John, why am I in the bathtub."

"Um, well, that's part of the spell..."

"Spit it out."

He was avoiding eye contact. "Remember how I said the kelpie wanted to keep you as his underwater bride...?"

Oh. Fuck. No. Given the circumstances, you could only think of one reason why they would have put you in a bathtub.

"Get me a mirror."

"Dave-"

"Get me a fucking mirror, Egbert." 

He dug around in the cabinet under the sink and finally produced a small, handheld mirror. He was hesitant holding it out to you, chewing on his bottom lip. "Dave, don't panic. We're going to fix it." 

You snatched the mirror out of his hands and, holding your breath, held it in front of you. 

You knew what you were expecting, but it still caught you off guard. Probably because the color was completely unexpected. Your neck was almost completely black, with patches of your skin tone showing through where the thick spiderweb pattern left openings. It thinned out as it spread away from your neck, and a few veins crept up your jaw and down your collarbone. After you got past the shock of that, you focused on the ridges and flaps on either side of your neck. They were idly, lazily opening and closing underwater. 

You felt faint. 

"Give me the trashcan."

John blinked. "What? Why?" He hadn't been expecting that. 

"Give me the fucking trashcan!"

He scrambled to hand you the small bathroom trashcan. You took it, leaned over the edge of the tub, and emptied your stomach. 

He awkwardly patted your back as you heaved and handed you a glass of water to rinse your mouth out when you were done. You sat back against the wall of the shower, head back. You could still breathe with your neck out of the water, but your neck, your GILLS, felt oddly exposed in the air. You grudgingly sank deeper to submerge them again. 

"I have fucking gills." You said, voice full of shock and disbelief. "That bastard gave he fucking gills. He was trying to turn me into a fucking fish."

"Yeah," John sounded apologetic. "And that's why we put you in the tub."

"Okay, I have one more question." You rolled your head to the side to look at him. He met your red eyes, and he didn't gawk at them like he had been doing earlier. "Did he take off my pants trying to claim me as his underwater sea queen, or was that you?"

John sputtered, his blush returning. Finally, he frowned. "Don't get any ideas. We just thought it would be more comfortable."

You smirked. "Don't lie. You can admit it. You just wanted to see what I had goin' on downstairs. Did you get too nervous before taking off the rest?"

John put a hand on your head and promptly shoved you underwater. Your knees had to bend more to accommodate the new position, and at first you panicked. You automatically held your breath, but even as your throat closed up, your neck kept working and your lungs kept expanding and contracting. It was the weirdest fucking thing you had ever experienced. 

When John finally let you back up, you broke the surface, spat water at him, and laughed. It was all just too much, it was hilarious. You laughed until your sides hurt. 

"You're a dick." John said, but he was smiling.

You splashed him. "Yeah, well you deserve it. I've been putting up with your shit for weeks."

His ears flushed, obviously still embarrassed now that he knew you had been able to see him, but he still managed a lopsided smile. "Come on, Dave. I'm hilarious."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, whatever." You settled back against the back of the tub, brushing your hair away from your face. You still felt exposed without your shades, but there wasn't much you could do about it. "So hey, it wasn't exactly what I was planning when I suggested a movie, but how about you pass some of that popcorn my way and we finish this stupid movie you got playing?"

John grinned, getting off the toilet and settling down on the floor with his back against the tub. He grabbed the forgotten popcorn bowl. "Okay, but you have to watch it from the beginning."

You groaned and sank under the water.


	10. Bruises

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you were gripping your phone so tight, you weren't really sure how it wasn't broken.

One earbud from your headphones was in your ear, so when you got a text, you were sure to both hear it and feel it vibrate. You had gotten a text about three hours ago while Jake was at the grocery store. It was from Dave's phone but wasn't from your little brother. It was from John. Something about Dave getting tired after the movie and passing out on his couch. He promised to take care of him. 

It set off alarm bells. 

You didn't doubt your brother could potentially pass out on someone's couch, but it was a little early for that. And he would be much more cautious in the presence of a fae, even if it was one he had growing feelings for. Plus, if your calculations were correct, and they always were, it hadn't been long enough for any movie to have finished. 

Your suspicions and general bad feeling were confirmed thirty minutes later by a text from Rose saying Dave had been attacked by a faerie, John had saved him, and she was currently taking care of it. She had said not to worry, which seemed to you like condescending advice. How the fuck were you supposed to not worry?

You had told her to keep you updated, but so far, no update.

"And here they're getting ready to bond to their Ikrans." Jake was saying. His voice was full of mystified awe, like it had been for the whole movie. Despite the fact that he had probably seen it five hundred times before. "Jake picks his winged stead, they wrestle a bit, and right when you think the beasty will give him the ol' heave-ho, Jake bonds with the creature and they fly together around the floating isles. It truly is a beautiful scene."

You were only half listening. Most of your active mind was busy trying to think of all the horrible things that could have happened to Dave that would cause Rose to wait this long before giving you an update. 

"Dirk, mate, are you listening?" It wasn't so much his words as his concerned tone that caught your attention and dragged you back into the moment.

"Hm? Yeah, flying bird pterodactyls connecting with his Navi junk. Got it."

Jake scoffed, sounding personally offended. "Dirk! The Navi's queue isn't their junk!"

You shrugged offhandedly. "They use it during sex, and they use it on animals. Sounds a lot like beastiality to me."

"The tsaheylu isn't inherently sexual! It's a neurological and emotional connection to other living things! In the case of their mounts, it helps the animal understand the rider and commands can be given without speaking. Much easier, if you ask me. And they do it during their mating ritual to form a lifelong emotional and spiritual connection. They join their hearts and souls while they join their bodies."

"Whatever floats your boat, English."

A silent pause stretched between you, and for a moment, you could almost believe that he was watching the movie. But out of the corner of your eye, you could still see the shape of his head turned towards you. You stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the spot where you knew your tv was. You couldn't see it. Your vision was just darkness save for Jake's aura next to you. But it seemed to make people more comfortable when you fixed your sightless gaze on spots where they thought it should be. 

Your shades were perched atop your head. Normally, you were good at keeping your thoughts hidden. Dave was like a fucking open book without his shades, but you were just as unreadable as ever. 

So you must have been pretty visibly shaken up to prompt Jake to ask: "Are you alright, mate?"

"Perfectly peachy." You replied with dry humor. 

You could hear the frown in his voice. "Now Strider, I have known you long enough by now to know that you are in fact not resembling a delicious southern fruit. You've been down in the gutters since I returned from the store, and I think it's about time you tell me why."

You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes to buy yourself more time. Sometimes, Jake was the most oblivious man on the planet. And other times, he was strangely and acutely preceptive. 

"It's... nothing." You said lamely. Wow, great excuse, Strider.

"Bravo, mate, you've managed to convince me that nothing at all is eating away at your caboose. Now how about you bite the bullet and spill the beans! What's wrong, Strider?"

You were impressed. You didn't know Jake was capable of sarcasm. You sighed and leaned your head back against the couch, tilting your face to the ceiling. 

"I'm just so enraptured with this movie, English. I can't possibly function at my normal rate."

"Bull honkey! You've barely been paying attention to my riveting narration!"

A small smile curved your lips. "You don't have to narrate everything. I CAN hear, after all."

In the last week or two, movies had become a frequent activity for you and Jake. At first, he just wanted you to see some of his favorite films. Then, after realizing that you could not, in fact, SEE the screen, he took it upon himself to narrate movies as they played. You, of course, could hear the dialogue, but that didn't stop Jake. You didn't mind though, his enthusiasm was endearing. 

"You're trying to distract me from the point!" He accused. 

"Now if I wanted to distract you, I'd do so by composing sonnets and haikus in tribute to your perfectly plump ass."

His aura brightened a fraction. If it wasn't the only thing in the room that you could see, you might not have noticed. You had a feeling he was blushing. Your frequent jabs at sexual innuendos, which were only half jokes and half your version of flirting, often had that reaction. You enjoyed seeing it, despite your worried mind. 

"You can't even see my ass! How would you know?" He asked indignantly. Yup, definitely blushing. 

"I could find out for myself just how plush it is, if you'd let me." You tilted your head to face him and waggled your eyebrows. 

"Stop this nonsense, Strider!" He said, landing a playful punch at your shoulder. You saw it coming, but flinched dramatically anyway.

"Jesus, Jake, you'd hit a blind man?"

"Confounded, Strider! Stop changing the subject! You've been glaring a hole through the wall and clinging to that doggone phone for hours! You tell me what is wrong this instant, or else I refuse to make you dinner tonight."

You smirked. "Pulling out the big guns, eh English?"

"Strider." His voice was flat. You had rarely heard such a serious tone from him. 

You sighed, your smirk fading. "Dave got mugged." It wasn't exactly the truth, but close enough. You didn't feel like explaining the intricacies of the fae world to him tonight. 

"Good golly, Strider! Is he alright?" His voice was all concern. 

You shrugged. "John said he was staying at his place tonight. Rose said she's checking up on him and he'll be fine." Your grip on your phone tightened and you gritted your teeth. "He's hurt, but they won't tell me how bad, and I haven't heard anything from them in hours, and it's pissing me right the fuck off." Filled with a sudden rage, you sat up and pulled back your arm, then froze. As much as you wanted to hurl your phone through the wall, you couldn't. You needed it to find out if Dave was okay. Instead you lowered your arm, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. 

You felt a large, warm hand rest on your shoulder. "Is there anything we can do?"

"No, there's nothing I can fucking do." You snapped with more venom than you intended. "I can't do any-fucking-thing. I wasn't there for him when it happened, no one's telling me where he is or what his condition is. 'Don't worry, Dirk. Everything is fine.' It's not fucking FINE. I'm BLIND. Not stupid."

He patted your shoulder. "It sounds like there isn't anything to worry about, mate." He said softly. "I've heard Rose is a standup gal and John is a right strong gent. They'll take care of him."

"You don't understand." You said into your fingers. You curled them and felt your nails bite into your flesh. "You don't fucking understand any of this."

He didn't understand how serious it was. It wasn't just some thug in an ally with a candlestick. Dave could take care of that shit. You'd trained him well enough. You'd both been trained by Bro. The fae were much more dangerous than that. You weren't taking about a couple of scrapes and bruises. You were talking magical shit. Spells. Swords. He could be dying and you wouldn't be able to do anything here. Yet no one was keeping you in the fucking loop.

He could still be in danger, if they knew about his sight.

You were scared. Rose hadn't said what was wrong with Dave, just that his condition was bad and she was working on it. That could mean anything. 

Jake's grip on your shoulder tightened, but you didn't notice until he was letting go. "Perhaps not. But I know what you need." He stood. You felt his weight leave the couch. Lifting your head from your hands, you looked up at him. He was holding his hand out to you. You just stared at it, and he took that as you not being able to see the hand being offered. So he leaned forward and took you by the arm, hauling you to your feet with surprising strength. No, it wasn't that surprising. He had, after all, slung you over his shoulder once. 

With one hand on your elbow, he used his other to take your phone away from you. You barely resisted it, but your fingers felt stiff as he pried them away. Gingerly, removing the earbud from your ear, he set your phone carefully on the coffee table. 

"Right-o, come with me, Strider." With a gentle, but firm, tug on your elbow, he practically dragged you across the apartment to the door. You didn't bother resisting. You barely gave two shits. Besides, your curiosity got the best of you.

"What are you doing, English?" You asked, exasperated, as he opened the door and nudged you through. 

"You'll see." And something in his tone made you think he was winking.

"Did you just wink at me? Did you seriously just wink at a blind dude?" You asked, your lip twitched a little despite yourself.

"Well, um, habit, you see." He mumbled, embarrassed. You couldn't help the small smirk as he dragged you to the staircase. You knew the way by heart, despite never seeing it. You subconsciously counted your steps. When you reached the stairs, you automatically turned to go down them, reaching for the rail. But with a light tug on your arm, Jake led you up. 

You cocked your head to the side, watching his aura curiously, but keeping silent. You were much in the mood to talk anyway. Your hand twitched, itching to hold your phone. What if you got a call about Dave and you weren't there? You would be letting him down. Again. 

The thought made you pause, but, sensing your hesitation, Jake tightened his grip on your arm and urged you to continue up the steps. "Trust me, mate." He said, softly and gently. Soothingly. You could almost hear the pity in it. And that pissed you right the fuck off. You were not one to be pitied. 

"Why should I?" You snapped, suddenly angry. Who was he to baby you? Sure, you had a bit of a man crush on him, but what the fuck did that prove? That you were a sucker for a mystery, a challenge, and a hard set of biceps? Whether he knew it or not, Jake was fae. The proof swirled beneath the thick glamour that held in his aura in like a thin shell. He was related to John, Jade, and Jane. The faeries that all seemed connected to you and your family. If it weren't for them, Dave wouldn't have been attacked. Who the fuck cared if they were taking care of him now. It was their fault in the first place. And by extension, Jake's. 

The Prince will wake the Page. 

Yeah, you knew about the so called "prophecy" that loomed over your family. Roxy had told you about it years ago. She hadn't brought it up since the incident, and you hadn't asked about it. Then, you had been all about your destiny. The Prince. What a fitting title. You were proud of it. You were willing to meet your destiny head on. 

Then they took your sight, and you swore off faeries. You wanted nothing to do with their business. How could you be this awe inspiring Prince, destined to wake an unknown Page to his destiny, and lead your family to victory when you couldn't even go to the damn grocery store by yourself? 

It was pathetic. You were pathetic. You had felt like your destiny had been ripped from you. 

Apparently the Lalonde's thought the whole deal was still on, and now that you'd met Jake, you had no doubt that you were somehow connected to him. You felt it. You felt the draw. The attraction. To both his voice and the puzzle he represented. You wanted to solve it. You had to "wake" him, but how the fuck were you even supposed to do that?

At the moment, you didn't care. The page could sleep forever for all you cared. 

Fuck the Heir. Fuck the Witch. Fuck the Maid. And most of all, Fuck the Page. 

Fuck the Page right up the ass.

"Why the fuck should I trust you?" You repeated, unable to stop the outburst of anger. You stopped climbing the steps and jerked your arm out of Jake's grasp. You saw him freeze and turn to face you, obviously startled. "I've only known you a couple of weeks, 'mate.' You don't know the first thing about me, and you don't know the first thing about my family. If you're going to suggest what I 'need' is to go to the roof and shout my unshed feelings to the heavens and fall to my knees to have a good old cry as the sun sets, well I got news for you. I can do the same thing alone in my bathroom because guess what? And this may be a surprise, but I'm blind. Everything looks the fucking same and the tranquility of the sunset on the harbor lulling me into a state of relaxation and relief will be a waste. I might as well go back to the privacy of my own rooms where at least the temptation to hurl myself off the edge of the roof won't be there."

You knew you were being harsh, but the fact that you couldn't see his face, couldn't see his expression, drove you on. You couldn't see any of the hurt or offense that you were sure was there. You couldn't even imagine it clearly. You didn't even know what the man looked like, even though Roxy had explained his appearance to you before. You wanted those unknown features to twist in pain, so maybe then he would stop focusing on you and making you feel like such a pathetic mess. Lash out. Turn him away. Hurt him. Don't let him see what's in your heart. Don't let him give you false hope.

"Strider... you don't mean that." He sounded hurt. Good.

You started to take a step back, intent of returning to your apartment. You weren't sure how you were going to find it, but you hoped you would. Otherwise your dramatic exit would be a waste. "Just leave me the fuck alone, English. I don't need you or your advice. I'm fine. I'm just fucking fine."

"Dirk..." You saw his arm move as he reached for you. 

In reflex, you took a wider step back, jerking away from his touch. Your foot slipped off the step and tried to find the one below you, only to miss that one too. You felt yourself lose your balance, and the sudden, disorienting feel of free fall took over your body without the visual of your surroundings to ground you. 

The thought that maybe, finally, your uselessness would end battled with your desire to survive for your family's sake. 

You didn't even have time to curse or cry out before Jake lurched forward and his hand wrapped around your upper arm. He threw himself backwards, landing on his ass on the stairs and pulling you down on top of him. A rush of air escaped his lungs as you both landed, as well as a grunt of pain. You had no doubt several of the steps were digging into his back. 

You felt yourself nestled between his legs, his arms wrapped tightly and securely around your back and shoulders, and your head resting on his wide chest. You both lay in silence for a long moment as your mind tried to catch up to your body. 

You rather liked this position, though this wasn't exactly how you had planned on getting into it. You tried to ignore his crotch pressing against your abdomen and instead focused on his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

Despite its rapid rate, his voice was calm, casual, slightly amused, and only a little shaken up. It was also alarmingly close to your ear. "You're right, Strider. I don't know you as well as I would like. However, I do know you to be a man made of tougher stuff than all this hogwash you've been spouting." He shifted with a mild grunt, and you moved onto your knees, putting your hands on either side of him to take your weight off of him. You were torn between wanting to get up, and wanting to stay in that position a little longer. But his grunts of pain solved that problem for you.

Groping for the railing, you pulled yourself to your feet and held out a hand for him. He took it and hoisted himself up, groaning and holding a hand to his back. "Gadzooks, I think I popped several ribs out of place." 

"Getting old, English?" You raised both eyebrows.

"Nonsense! I'm just as young and spritely as I've always been! You're just heavy."

"Calling me fat?"

"No, just mighty sturdy." He said, smiling. He shifted to put an arm around your shoulders and started back up the stairs. You grudgingly followed. "Anyhoo, we are men of action. Lies do not become us. It's about time you bone on up, Strider, and admit you're not fine."

You tilted your head towards him, keeping your expression blank. "Did you just use a Princess Bride quote?" You didn't need to see him to know he was grinning. "Hoe don't do it."

"Inconceivable!"

"Oh my god." 

By the time you reached the roof, you were feeling mildly better, but still on edge. The anger that had taken you so suddenly was still brimming beneath the surface. Jake pushed the door open and ushered you out onto the barren landscape that was your apartments roof. 

You had been here several times before. You and Dave, despite your failed decision to stay out of faerie business, still trained regularly. Bro had taught you both that a sound body made for a sound mind. And being prepared never hurt either. Strider family tradition, or some such nonsense. Maybe he just liked swords. If that was the case, his passion for swordplay had passed on to you and Dave. And you couldn't say he was wrong. Your skills had saved your life quite a few times in the past. 

Being able to carry a sword in public without looking like a dangerous whackjob would probably would have curbed some of those close calls, but that was the price you paid for trying to blend in. Luckily, one of the only perks to your condition was being able to carry around your seeing-eye-sword disguised to avoid suspicion. 

Jake left your side and strode out to the side of the roof where you and Dave kept two poles specifically for practice spars. He bent and, presumably, picked them up, heaving them in each hand, feeling their weight. You watched curiously as he strode to the center of the roof.

You knew it was the center based on the distance he stood from you, and you were next to the stairs. Before you and Dave had begun strife practice up here, you had spent hours upon hours memorizing the layout. It may be a spacious roof, but it did have edges. You already had the map of the roof in your mind. Exactly how many paces in each direction you could go before hitting the knee high wall. When strifing with Dave, you kept a fluid map going in your mind, keeping track of exactly where you stood on the roof. Without sight to distract you, and only Dave's moving aura to focus on, you found the multitasking easy. Dave thought it was because you were a robot. It wasn't your fault your mind worked faster and more efficiently than his. 

That's why you were the Prince and he was the Knight. 

You were the Prince, and your destiny was bullshit. You felt your hands clenching into fists. Why the fuck was your life so damn complicated? 

"What are we doing here, English?" You asked, sounded exasperated. 

"We're going to fight." He said, tossing you one of the poles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Your name is Jake English, and you flinched as soon as the pole left your hand.

You had a terrible habit of forgetting Dirk was blind. Which was ridiculous, seeing as your whole job revolved around that fact.

Surprisingly, Dirk snatched the pole out of the air without any visible effort. You stared at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. Sometimes, you could swear that the man wasn't blind at all. He always seemed to know where you were, even if you weren't speaking. He always knew when you were about to reach for him. And his sightless eyes always followed you around. But then he would do other things that reminded you that he was, in fact, unable to see. Like trail his hands along the wall, or trip over puppets, clothes, or other random objects that had been left lying on the floor, or stare listlessly at the wall while the tv was on.

You chocked it up to his amazing reflexes. He HAD told you that he and his brother liked to train in the art of fighting. After all, that's why you were here.

Dirk held his pole limp at his side. His sunglasses still perched atop his head, you could see his face in full. Even in the clouded light, the sun gleamed off his pale skin, accenting each and every freckle that dotted his nose and cheeks. His eyes, deep amber in color, that seemed nearly brown in the shadows, gleamed bright orange in the light. 

He stared at you with a confidence that told you he knew exactly where you stood, but with a vague distracted look that reminded you he was blind. His eyes didn't settle on your face, like people tended to do. Instead they seemed to stare at YOU. All of you. Right to your core essence, without stopping to focus on any of your earthly might.

And you do mean might. You were well trained in the art of fisty cuffs, and he would find you a difficult opponent to best. 

"What the fuck do you mean 'fight'?" He stared at you blankly, but his confusion was clear in his voice. 

You grinned. "You and me, Strider. As I said, we are men of action."

One bushy blond eyebrow rose. When he spoke, his voice was layered with a twanging southern accent that reminded you of wild west cowboy movies. "So instead of talking about my feelings and spillin' my guts to ya in a civilized and heartwarmin' manner, we're gonna forego the feelings jam fest and dive straight on into takin' out my aggression born from pent up feelings by beatin' each other with sticks?"

You had to repress a shiver than threatened to run through your body at the sound of his low drawl. Perhaps you had your own frustrations to deal with. "Right-o, Strider! Couldn't have said it better myself."

He sighed, propped the pole on the roof and leaning against it. "No offense, English, but I don't really think you're up to the challenge of taking on all my aggression. Besides, I find there are better ways to relieve frustration. Why don't we go back to my bedroom and I'll show ya." 

"Nonsense! You will find I am very apt in the art of fisty cuffs!" You said, choosing to ignore his suggestive comment and incessant waggling eyebrows. Dirk was always one to go for the joke. You had learned quickly to ignore such things, or else they would persist at a much higher rate. "We're not leaving this roof until you are utterly worn out and feeling better."

"Kinky."

"Shut your yammering and let's do this!"

"Yeah, about that. I don't think I can just...hit you, Jake. Teach my brother a lesson or two, yeah, but you're just so... you." He waved a hand in your direction, up and down. 

"Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

"I'll put it where your money is." He said with a smirk. "Assuming your wallet is in your back pocket."

You huffed and fell into a defensive stance, knees bent and pole held with both hands in front of you. It was roughly five feet long and thick. Your fingers just managed to touch when you wrapped your hands around it. "Stop this dallying, Strider."

"I'm not fighting you Jake." He tossed his pole in your direction. It hit the ground halfway between you and rolled to a stop. He turned back toward the stairs. 

"Imagine I'm the man who mugged your brother." You said lowly, softly. He heard and froze. You weren't used to playing the villain, but you would because you knew Dirk needed this. He wasn't one to talk about his feelings, and you had never been good at having emotional talks with anyone. Short of screaming at the top of his lungs and crying, which you had a feeling would shame him deeply, there wasn't much else he could do to release his pent up frustration. DESPITE his suggestion at the OTHER activities. 

"Imagine I beat up your brother." You continued, doing your best to put as much merciless danger in your voice that you could. You weren't sure it worked. "I'm the man who attacked him while his back was turned." Dirk's hands curled into fists. "I hit him and refused to hear his pleas for mercy. I hurt him. I hurt Dave. I hurt your brother."

With a sudden cry of anger that sounded enough like a wild animal to send adrenaline flooding through your system, Dirk spun around and dashed at you, snatching his pole off the ground as he passed. 

One thing you had learned about Dirk in your time in the Strider household, was the fact that he was very, very fast. If he was unhampered by objects scattered on the ground, he could flit around the house while your back was turned, startling you to no end. And he did this often, finding amusement in your surprise. 

He moved that fast now, closing the distance between you in just a few short seconds. You barely had time to register the attack and lift your own pole to defend yourself. 

Your goading worked a little too well. You could see from the way his orange eyes flashed and his jaw clenched, as well as the force behind his initial blow, that the flood gates had been opened. The anger that had flashed in the stairwell was back in full force. And it was all directed at you. 

You only hoped you could take it.

After his momentum stopped, he leapt back, and you shifted your feet for balance, already feeling the ache in your shoulders. You rolled them in preparation. Perhaps you should have stretched. 

Dirk came at you again, pole held horizontally and gripped with a wide stance. He swung hard to your left. You blocked, and he shifted his force to the other side. You shifted your pole as well, blocking this second attack. As soon as your weapons met, he was pulling back, shifted his grip together and pulling his pole with the momentum of your block so that it hovered over his shoulder. Then he swung down and diagonally. You jumped back as his pole slammed into the cement of the roof. 

Breathing heavily, clenching his jaw, he looked up at you. The raw emotion you saw there made you shiver in fear, sparking the primal instinct in all men that willed you to survive. His eyes didn't meet yours. How was he supposed to know how to make eye contact? But his gaze did lock onto you. He stared at your very center, and his eyes seemed to trace every movement, every flinch. Quite frankly, it was creeping you out, and for a moment you wondered if you had made a mistake. 

You didn't have long to dwell on that though, for he ran at you again. And again. And again.

Your staves met again, and again, and again, with enough force to jar your bones. His movements were quick, practiced, and yet bordering on hysteria. The clack of wood echoed in the air and off the buildings around you. You started off well, blocking every shot he took. But you had either underestimated him, or overestimated yourself, because you started to lag behind. You began parrying his moves, then barely managing to dodge them. 

You retreated with each blow, but he was after you. Even when you sidestepped and spun away, he was there, following and aiming with such precision that you once again questioned his true blindness. His other senses must be fantastic.

You didn't have time to look yourself over, but you already felt bruises forming on your side, arms, and leg where you took several of his blows. If it didn't end soon, you were afraid he would beat you to death.

Just as you were thinking this, you lost your footing and fell backwards onto your rear. You grunted as you landed. The fall had dodged his side swiping swing, but he quickly corrected and swung down, hands together on the pole in a manner that reminded you of a swordsman. You barely got your pole up in time, holding it horizontally to block the blow. 

The clack rang loud in your ears. 

A second of resistance. 

Pain shooting through your arms to your shoulders.

You clenched your jaw and grunted in effort.

With a wordless shout, he pushed harder. 

And then your pole snapped in half, sending splinters flying everywhere.

You closed your eyes and squeezed them shut in preparation for the impact, but it never came.

You cracked one lid and found Dirk standing over you, pole positioned mere inches from your chest. He was breathing heavily, his body tense, and every muscle in his arms was tight. You marveled at his self control. That would have left one doozy of a bruise if it had landed. And probably would have cracked a rib. 

After a moment, in which you wondered if he was going to hit you anyway, he sighed angrily and tossed his pole aside with a muttered curse. He held out a hand to you. You dropped your shattered halves of your pole and gratefully took his hand. He leaned back, pulling you to your feet. 

"Thanks, mate, do you feel any bet- WHOA NELLY!" Your question was cut short as his free hand curled into a fist and hurled toward your face. 

Only years of wrestling experience and picking friendly, but violent, fights with people around the world gave you the instincts to duck. You let go of his hand and dropped into a squat just as his fist sailed over your head. You felt it brush your hair. You were pleased by his look of surprise. He looked down at you, and you grinned. Of course he couldn't SEE that, so you made sure your amusement was in your voice.

"Good golly, mate. So that's how we're going to play?" He may have had the upper hand when it came to poles, but this was your area of expertise. You took your glasses off, realizing they could possibly be in danger, and lightly skidded them a sizable distance away. "Right then."

You pushed off the balls of your feet and lunged forward, slamming your shoulder into Dirk's thighs and wrapping an arm around his legs. He went down with a startled yelp. 

As soon as he was down, you climbed up his body until you were straddling his chest, all of your weight on his gut. The air had rushed from his lungs from the impact of his fall, and he looked dazed. You weren't entirely sympathetic though. He had left several bruises on you, after all. While he recovered, you plucked his ridiculously pointy sunglasses from his hair and tossed them aside. 

"Don't want to poke an eye out." You chuckled.

He struggled beneath you, pushing you up with his hips. He got a food under him and shoved you to the side with one mighty push. You rolled off of him and had little time to prepare yourself before he was on top of you.

You fared much better this time around. 

The two of you rolled around the roof, tackling, pinning, and tossing off the other before starting again. You found your feet a couple of times, and actual punches were thrown. You caught him in the jaw, and he got you in the eye. That one smarted, but at least your nose was in tact. You hit him in the chest hard enough to knock him back, but he got you in the gut hard enough to double you over. You, wearing cargo shorts, scrapped up both your knees, and one of them bad enough to bleed. Dirk ripped a hole in the knee of his jeans when he landed hard, and you had a feeling it, too, bled. Though it was hard to tell with his black pants. Your elbows, too, hurt, both from connecting with Dirk, blocking his attacks, and rolling around on the ground. You didn't have time to check if they were scraped. And your back burned from one moment when you had him pinned so thoroughly that he gouged your back with his nails until you let him go. 

You had him pinned again, right after taking a fist to the jaw. You straddled his hips, had both his wrists clutched in one hand against his chest, and reared back your other fist. You threw the punch without thinking. Caught in the heat of the fight, lost in it, and driven by the taste of blood oozing from a split lip, it was easy to forget Dirk couldn't see. He fought well enough without his sight. There was a small moment of panic before your fist connected when you realized you were throwing a punch at a blind man with no means to protect himself. It was too late, however, your momentum was moving and your body was going to carry it through. You didn't have the control that Dirk had to start and stop momentum at the drop of a dime.

But then your fist connected with cement. Your knuckles immediately screamed with pain that ran howling up your arm, around your elbow, and up to your shoulder. You opened your mouth to cry out, but all you managed was a strangled hiss of air. 

Dirk's head was rolled to the side and he smirked up at you with an amusement that bordered on a grin. He had moved so fast. There was simply no way he could have guessed you were going to punch him at that exact moment. Or maybe he had guessed, and it was a fifty-fifty chance that he would have rolled his head to the left or right. In that case, he was a very lucky man. 

Either way, you were still gaping with shock, giving him the opportunity to wrap his leg around you and flip you onto your back. 

You laid there unresisting as he settled into a position straddling your hips. Mimicking your previous attack, he pulled back his arm, hand curled into a fist. But he froze.

You watched as an array of emotions passed over his features. You could tell he was trying to keep his face blank, but he wasn't quite successful. Finally, you saw the anger and frustration drain out of him. His arm slumped to his side and his fingers uncurled. His back hunched as he let loose a long sigh. 

He then flopped forward, arms laying limply on the roof beside you and head resting on your chest. After a moment of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him and rested your chin atop his head. It was an interesting feeling. While standing, the man was taller, and you wouldn't have been able to hold him like this. It was a pleasant change.

"We have to stop meeting like this." He mumbled into your shirt, and you laughed, the movement of your chest shaking him. 

"Right from the beginning, you fell for me." You said, grinning and putting extra emphasis into your words so he would get your pun. 

He got it, and he snorted. "More like you fell on top of me."

You stayed like that for a long while. The sun was beginning to set, and you watched the multi-colored clouds drift lazily as you held the elder Strider. Without your glasses, the clouds looked like blurred colors. Your eye was swelling, making you squint, but you refused to move. You heard him sniffling, but you pretended not to notice. 

You could also feel the after effects of a fight. With adrenaline ebbing away, the pain and aches started to set in. Your breathing calmed, but was still labored because of the fully grown man on your chest. You were both covered with sweat, and no doubt would be sticking to each other.

But most of all, you felt ANOTHER after effect of such a high adrenaline and exhilaration rush. A certain part of your anatomy that found a way to make itself known, despite the blood that had been needed elsewhere in your body. And THAT particular part of your nether regions, a part that you had always been able to ignore after a fight, was firmly pressed against Dirk's, equally excited, piece of equipment. 

You ran your tongue over your split lip and stared very intently at the clouds, mentally reciting your grandma's recipe for pumpkin bread.

Then both your stomachs growled in unison, signaling an end to the peaceful, yet slightly unnerving, moment.

"Jesus fucking christ, I'm hungry." He said, clearing his throat. "What kind of caretaker are you? Leaving me to fucking starve."

You chuckled. "Hate to break it to you, mate, but I can't make food until you get up."

He groaned, sitting up and rolling off you. You sat up, looking away while he wiped his face. There was a wet spot on your shirt. "You're going to have to carry me, English."

You threw back your head and laughed. Your shoulders protested at the mere mention of carrying him. "Not on your life, Strider."

You went to wear your glasses had fallen and nestled them back on your nose before handing Dirk his. Together, the two of you managed to hobble your way down the stairs, clinging to each other for support. 

"Make something soft," Dirk said as you entered the apartment. He was rubbing his jaw. "I feel like I should be drinking my food through a straw instead of eating it. I can't move my jaw for shit."

"Yeah, well you gave me quite the shiner in retribution." You said, looking at the small mirror that hung near the door. Your eye was all purple and black and swollen. You opened the fridge, looking for a package of frozen peas or some other type of vegetable. No such luck in the Strider household. You would have to make due with a homemade ice pack. 

"I'm going to go shower and get the fucking gravel out of my knee." Dirk mumbled, heading toward the hall that led to his room, limping a little. He made no move to pick up his phone as he passed the living room. He stopped in his doorway. "Hey, Jake..." He said without turning to look at you.

"Yes, mate?" You asked, digging through the drawers for sandwich bags. 

"Thanks."

You stopped your search and looked up. You smiled, despite the fact that your jaw ached, the scab on your lip cracked, and your eye stung as your cheek pushed into it. "No problem, Strider."


	11. Waiting

Your name is Dave Strider, and you still had mother fucking gills.

You were learning to deal with them though. At least the poison was out of your system. It had been a few days since the incident, and other than the fact that your neck felt weird as fuck and occasionally cold as air moved past it, you felt perfectly fine. You weren't fine though, because you had mother fucking gills. But as far as weird faerie curses went, you supposed it could have been worse. 

"I'm going to get an orange pet and name it Dorito." You said, holding up a perfectly triangular chip for John to admire. You were at the bottom of the bag and perfect chips were rare. 

"Oh my god, Dave, that is possibly the stupidest name for a pet." He was on the other side of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his laptop resting on his stomach.

You lounged against the armrest, your legs stretched out to the middle of the couch. You popped the chip in your mouth and chewed loudly as you spoke. "Oh yeah? And what exactly would be a GOOD name for a pet, according to the wise old Jonathan Egbert?"

"Chew with your mouth shut, you slob." He said, though there was no real heat behind his words. "And you should name a pet something nice, with some real sentimentality behind it. Like Casey or something." 

You snorted, reaching into the bag for another chip. "Now THAT'S a stupid name. You don't name pets with people names, Egbert. That's just wrong. And sentimentality, my ass. You got that name from that stupid Con Air movie you made me watch."

He lifted his chin a fraction. "And if I did? It's my imaginary hypothetical future pet, Dave. I can name her whatever I want."

You gestured at him with a chip. "Okay, but that means you can't say shit when I name MY imaginary hypothetical future pet Dorito."

John chuckled softly under his breath and shook his head. "You're not allowed to have kids. You're terrible with names."

You shrugged. "Good thing I don't want any."

At this, he glanced at you, eyebrows raised. "Never?"

"Never." You shrugged again and gestured to your eyes. "Don't wanna pass this shit on to anybody. This curse isn't exactly fun to live with, especially for a kid. Trust me."

He pressed his lips together, frowning slightly. You could tell the idea hadn't really occurred to him. You wondered if he had ever thought about kids. He probably had. He practically smelled like white American domesticity, even for a faerie. You, on the other hand, knew from an early age that you didn't want kids. You wouldn't be responsible for giving another human life this curse. Not if you could help it. 

You finished off the chips, tossing the empty bag on the table. It felt weird to swallow with your new gils. It didn't hurt. It was just weird. New muscles and organs and skin flaps and who knew what else existed in your neck. Honestly, you did your best not to think about it. Whenever you did, you felt like throwing up. Again. So repression it was.

"Any word from Rose and Jade?" You asked, already knowing the answer. If he had heard anything, he would have told you. Or you would have noticed. The apartment wasn't exactly big. You'd have heard his phone go off. But you still couldn't stop yourself from asking. 

John frowning, glancing at his phone on the coffee table, and shook his head. "Not since last night when they said they were getting close."

You rolled your eyes. "Figures the broads would take their time. They're probably too busy talking about girl things. Or weird faerie things. No doubt Rose is fascinated with Jade's animal based faerie genes. Probably trying to figure out how to do that to herself. Never mind me, I'm not dying as far as we know. Let's just let Dave keep his gils a little longer. He loves sleeping in the bathtub so his gils don't dry out in the night and cause him to suffocate in his sleep. He's grown quite attached to them. Happy as a mother fucking clam."

He rolled his eyes. "You don't sleep in the bathtub, and I'm sure they're trying, Dave." He said, though you knew that he, too, was antsy about how much time it was taking for a cure or counter spell. You noticed the way he eyed your neck when he thought you weren't looking. He tried to hide it, but you saw. He wasn't really all that subtle. You had gotten really good at avoiding the bathroom mirror when you went in there. Just looking at the black cobweb of your neck made you feel sick.

You sighed, reaching for the xbox control and starting up the system. "I know, I just wish they'd hurry. I don't really want to be part fish for the rest of my life. It wasn't really on my bucket list."

"Jade said if they mess up the counter spell, it could get worse. You could turn like, whole fish or something. Dave the little mermaid."

"Wow, geez, way to make me feel better, Egbert. I'm so fucking relieved over here. All my worries have gone out the metaphorical window."

"I just mean, like, maybe it's a good thing they're taking their time. We don't want something to go wrong."

"Yeah, you're probably right. It's whatever." You started up your save file for Assassin's Creed. It was a game you'd been meaning to play for a while now, but never got around to it. Especially since you and Dirk were fans of much shittier games. Not that he played video games much anymore. Now that you were stuck in John's home, and he had the game, now seemed like as good a time as any. What the hell else were you supposed to do?

"Hey, Dave..."

"Sup." 

"If you turn whole fish, I promise I'll feed you fishy flakes everyday, clean your bowl regularly, and almost never tap on the glass."

You kicked his side with your bare foot, and he laughed, closing his laptop and setting it aside. Your game loaded, and you checked the map for your next destination.

"Has... your brother talked to you at all?" He asked casually. You glanced at him, but he was staring at the tv. You sighed, not even bothering to check your phone. 

"No, not since the 'you okay?' text a couple days ago and the 'okay' text when I told him I'd be staying here until Rose came up with a way to fix me." You marked the spot on your map, called your horse, and set off. "I don't really think he wants to talk to me. I probably disappointed the hell outta him by A, being attacked by a fae, and B, letting you in on our family secret."

"I don't think he's disappointed with you, Dave." John said, frowning. "He's probably just worried."

"Yeah, well, you don't now my bro very well. I promised him this shit wouldn't happen again, not after Texas, and here we are, and it's just like Texas all over again. Except this time there's this whole prophecy the Lalonde's have been holding over our heads. I swore I'd stay outta fae business, yet here I am, all up in your business. Our business is so far intertwined we might as well be partners. Entrepreneurs in this whole faerie-human partnership enterprise. We might as well start a company and hit that shit up as co-CEO's. We'll make millions."

"Dave." He said flatly, cutting you off and giving you a chance to take a breath. 

"What? I was on a roll there, Egbert. I was just about to outline our entire business plan. With numbers, charts, graphs, and everything."

"What happened in Texas? And what prophecy?" 

You gave him a sideways glance, narrowing your eyes slightly. Your shades, much to your pissed off dismay, had broken when you had passed out in the park. And since John already knew about your little eye secret, and he was the only on here, you hadn't really worn anything to cover them. So he got the full force of your skeptic surprise. "You don't know about the prophecy?" He shook his head, frowning. You searched his face, but found no trace of a lie. Which was a stupid thing to do anyway, since faeries couldn't lie to begin with. You sighed. "Okay, well I'm NOT going to be the one to explain it to you. Not when I barely understand it myself. My advice? Ask your pseudo cousin, Jade. She's bffsies with Rose, so she probably knows. Hell, she might know more than Rose, with all of her unhumanly fae wisdom."

"Daaaaave."

"Nope, not gonna spill the beans. The beans are in the unopened can, locked up tight in the pantry, guarded by an disgruntled and vicious boar. You don't wanna mess with a boar, John. They'll rip your shit up. Put that pouty lip away, stuff it into the bottom drawer and lock it away, like the beans, cause I'm not tellin'."

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching further down on the couch. "Okay, then what about Texas?"

You pressed your lips together, tensing. "It was nothing."

"You brought it up, so now you have to tell me."

You made a scoffing noise. "Brilliant logic there, Egbert, you should be a lawyer."

"Dave." His tone was flat and serious, reminding you a little of Rose. Or of a suburban house dad. 

You sighed, steeling yourself. When you spoke, your voice was even, flat, matter-of-fact, and betraying none of the emotional chaos that usually accompanied mentions of the incident. "Before we moved here, there was an incident in Texas. Long story short, there was this girl, she was a fae, I thought she was a good friend. I told her about my second sight. That information got around, and when they came for me, Dirk took my place, claiming HE was Dave and only he had the sight. They didn't even bother to take him away. They tortured him right there, in our living room, while I hid in the closet. Then they blinded him and left. End of story."

"Dave..." His voice was soft, and you could hear the surprise and the pity. He reached out to touch you, but you flinched away, your eyes never leaving the tv screen. You weren't really going to your destination anymore, just riding aimlessly around the city. "Don't- just... don't." You said, trying to keep the agitation from your voice. 

You didn't need his pity. And with all the emotions and memories of that night fresh in your mind, you REALLY didn't want him to touch you. Which was ridiculous, because he was John. The adorable boy in sweat pants and a t-shirt, with messy hair and a smile that lit the room. 

But he was also fae. And you just... really didn't want him to touch you right then. 

"Sorry..." He mumbled, pulling his hand back. He sounded hurt. Shit.

You rolled your head from side to side, trying to clear it and calm down, but still unable to look at him. "No, I'm sorry, it's just... I don't want... I don't need comfort, okay? It happened a while ago, and it's fine. I'm over it."

You weren't over it. And if John examined your face, just a little, he could probably figure that out for himself. Shit, you wished you had your shades. You didn't though, so you did the next best thing. Which was to change the subject. 

"So what's with the get-up?"

"What?" Surprise. Good. It would distract him from the Strider tale. You really didn't want a pity party. Not with John. Pity parties were for you when you were alone in your room and able to fully wallow in it. 

"The sweatpants and t-shirt." He didn't even glamour the clothes on. He wore them the old fashioned way. The human way. By actually wearing them. You'd never seen him in anything but his usual faerie outfit, even if it was covered with a veil of glamoured other clothes. 

He looked down at himself, tugging on the t-shirt. "It's... comfortable?" 

You rolled your eyes. "No, I mean, don't you usually wear like, faerie clothes or something?"

"Oh, yeah, I do, but only when I go out, you know? Jade told me to. Apparently other faeries would look at me weird if I just WORE human clothes. So I wear fae stuff and glamour. It's supposed to keep me incognito. Which is definitely NOT what you're going to be if you keep killing guards like that."

"They started it." You said, mashing the combat buttons.

"Oh my god, it was supposed to be a stealth mission."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"Dave, it's Assassin's Creed. They're ALL stealth missions!"

"Okay, well I tried, and they caught me, and now it's no longer stealth. Now it's an anti-stealth mission."

"Counter!"

"I AM countering!"

"No, you're not!" 

The screen started flashing red and everything slowed down as the word "desynchronized" flashed across the screen. You sat back. You hadn't realized you had started leaning forward. "Shit fuck."

John just sighed. 

"So what about you?" You asked while your game reloaded. You shifted the towel around your neck. It was uncomfortable, but necessary.

"What about me?"

"You know, you." You turned to look at him, give him a once-over with your eyes, and wave at him with your hand. "I gave you some of my dirty past. What about you? You don't really act like a fae. You act like... a normal, invisible asshole with windy powers."

He snorted and grinned, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back, staring at you. "That's because I am a normal, invisible asshole with windy powers."

Your game loaded, and you approached your objective again, doing your best to be sneaky and slow. "Okay, I'm inclined to believe you on that, but seriously. You have video games? A phone? A normal apartment? How many faeries actually play video games? Or use smartphones and computers?"

You saw him shrug in the corner of your eye. "The smart ones. It doesn't make sense to hide ourselves from technology just because humans invented it."

"Still, why're you all gung-ho about all this 'human world' crap? Even Rose's girlfriend isn't all about the human way of life, despite dating one."

"I grew up thinking I was human, if that's what you mean." He said, staring at the ceiling. "Well, not really. I never actually THOUGHT about being human. It was kinda a given? But on my eighteenth birthday, Jade 'woke' me up. Apparently I had some heavy duty glamour on, and she kinda... tore that away and BOOM faerie."

"So you're a changeling."

"Yes! That's the word Jade used. We're all changelings, I think. All my 'cousins.' But Jade woke up early."

"So your hot sister? The bakery boss?"

"Dave!"

"What?"

"She is not hot!" He was sitting up straight, his face twisted into a half frown. His hands waved around, grasping for invisible straws. "Well, she IS, but not THAT way. And she's my sister! You can't just say that!"

"My bad. Jealous? Should I call you hot John to make up for it?"

"No!" 

One glance told you that he was blushing fiercely. You smirked, turning back to your game. John sat back against the couch, crossed his arms over his chest, and pouted. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke.

"But yes, Jane's fae too. Jade woke her up when she woke me up, but Jane doesn't like it. She'd rather pretend she was still human."

"You mean she doesn't fully appreciate what she has and doesn't go around harassing strangers with stupid little pranks?"

"That is exactly what I mean." 

"I don't think she hides it very well. Her baking is too good to be true." 

"Dave, they're going to spot you. You're going the wrong way."

"Fuck it." You whispered, and threw a rope dart at a guard, choking him before diving in with your sword. Doing things the sneaky was just took too damn long.

"Counter, Dave. COUNTER."

"I AM."

"NO, YOU'RE NOT." 

"JOHN. I AM PRESSING THE BUTTON THAT SAYS COUNTER."

"YOU HAVE TO HOLD IT."

"I AM."

"NO, PRESS IT AND HOLD IT AT THE RIGHT TIME AND THEN ATTACK."

"OH SHIT, THAT WAS AWESOME. Why didn't you just tell me to do that? Damn, John, you're a terrible teacher."

He sighed loudly and punched you in the arm.

You continued to play mostly in silence. Occasionally interrupted by smartass comments or curses on either your part or John's. This had become your life lately, and you were pretty okay with that. After Rose and Jade said it would take a few days to come up with a cure, it was suggested that you stay at John's place. You probably COULD have walked back to your apartment. Borrowed a hoodie, covered your neck, and made the long trek back. But... it was an opportunity to stay with John. And weirdly enough, you felt safer from the fae when there was a fae watching over you. 

Go figure. 

Plus, you didn't know if the kelpie would be able to track you or smell you or whatever with this curse on your neck. And if he could, you didn't want to risk bringing him and his minions straight to Dirk. Your brother wouldn't take the fall for you. Not again. You would fight your own battles on this one.

And if that meant hiding out in your crush's tiny ass apartment, then so be it. 

You captured a fort and were making your way to your next objective when John suddenly sat up and reached toward you. You flinched, surprised by the motion, but he grabbed at the towel around your neck, feeling it. 

"It's drying out." He said, the note of concerned panic that you were getting used to creeping into his voice. He stood and held out a hand to you. "Come on."

You frowned at him, pausing the game with a sigh. "How could you even tell?" You asked, feeling the towel yourself. It DID seem to be drier than it was earlier, but you hadn't even noticed yet. 

"Your breathing changed." He said simply.

You raised an eyebrow in question as you stood. He grabbed your elbow and practically yanked you toward the bathroom. You dragged your feet. You hated this part. 

"How can you even tell? I couldn't even tell, and they're MY lungs."

John gave you a half-exasperated, half-smug look, complete with a lopsided smirk. "What part of 'windy asshole' don't you understand?"

"Right, how could I possibly forget." You said dryly as he dragged you into the bathroom, ushered you to the toilet, and made you sit. 

"Your breathing started to sound a little strained. Wheezing, kinda." He said, squatting in front of you and carefully unwrapping the towel from around your neck. 

You held your chin high, staring at the ceiling and arms resting limp in your lap as you let him get on with it. "I don't wheeze."

"You do, bro. When your neck starts to get dry."

With the towel gone, along with any remaining moisture, you started to feel it. The light strain with every inhale, the sharp, dry air that made you feel like you needed to cough. John dumped the towel into the empty bathtub and turned on the faucet, letting the thing soak. Whether it was prolonged exposure to the air without a barrier of moisture, you suddenly becoming aware of the strain in your lungs, or your panic at FEELING the gills on your neck move, stretch, and flap open, or a combination of all three, you definitely started to wheeze a little. You opened your mouth slightly, trying to take deeper breaths, but it didn't help. You still felt like you couldn't get enough air. 

Well, you could get ENOUGH, but you couldn't get a FULL breath. It felt oddly like a slow suffocating. And that probably helped spur on your panic. 

So you stared at the ceiling and tried to focus on anything other than your own goddamn breathing. 

Your fists were clenched in your lap as you resisted the urge to claw at your neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Your name is John Egbert, and you still couldn't help the little curl of panic, anger, and nausea that gripped you whenever you saw Dave's gills.

You simultaneously wanted to freak out, wreck shit, and vomit, all at the same time.

Which would honestly just make a mess.

You did none of those things, however. Instead, while you soaked his towel, you got out the spray bottle and soaked a small hand towel, wringing it to get all the excess water out. Then you got down on your knees in front of Dave and steeled yourself against the sight of his neck. His head was tilted back, giving you clear and unrestrained access. The black web of lines hadn't expanded anymore since they first stopped, but you found yourself checking anyway, nervous that they might start growing again. The skin flaps opened with every breath he took, exposing the dark reddish-purple organ beneath the skin. His neck had swelled up to accommodate the new addition.

A wave of nausea hit you, and you swallowed hard to keep it down. You hated this part. But it had to be done. You could hear the air wheezing through his throat and the strained dry note of his lungs gasping for air. 

You lifted the spray bottle and sprayed his neck. He flinched, but you kept spraying until his neck was soaked, then you dabbed at it with the hand towel. You didn't worry about getting his shirt wet, the whole top of his t-shirt was soaked from having the bigger towel wrapped around his neck. The shirt itself he had borrowed from you. Luckily, you were both roughly the same size. 

"How gross is it?" He asked after a moment of silence. His throat moved as he spoke, and the gills flapped open. 

"Pretty gross." You admitted, continuing to dap his neck. He was looking down at you now, though he kept his chin held up. "But not any more gross than yesterday."

"Good. As long as I stay at a perpetual state of gross, I guess that's fine."

"Don't worry, I'll sustain your grossness."

He snorted a laugh, and in the act of tensing his neck, the gills all shuttered open. You leaned back, making a face. "Dude, don't laugh. It makes your neck open up and I get an eyeful of fish organs."

"What kind of gross is it? Like, fetal pig in a jar gross? Child just vommed all over the bathroom gross? Or seeing your parents doing it gross?"

You sprayed his neck down again, then dabbed. His breathing was already easing, losing that rasping quality. Had it been up to you, you would have forced him to stay in the bathtub this whole time, but he was insistent on getting out. And you had to admit, he WAS really pruney. His new fish lungs might need to stay wet, but the rest of his body didn't look like it was adapted for life in the water. 

So after a lot of arguing, Dave practically wrestling you to get out of the tub, and getting you, and your bathroom, soaked in the process, you both decided to see if he COULD survive outside of the tub. Turns out, he could. But after a frightening moment when he started to suffocate and choke on your couch after his neck dried out, after which you both ran shouting curses to the bathroom and you dunked the upper half of his body under the water of the still half-full tub, you realized he needed to keep his neck wet for his lungs, and gills, to function.

Hence, the towel method. It was working well so far, but you had to set alarms for the middle of the night to re-moisten his towel. And waking up a sleeping Dave wasn't easy. He slept like a dead fish. Which had already given you several panic attacks at four in the morning.

"I'd say it's kinda like two-headed fetal pig in a jar. It's kinda neat to look at, but gross when it moves and when you have to touch it."

He nodded briefly. "Cool. So I'd fit right in with my collection."

You paused, eyeing him curiously. "Collection?" You asked slowly.

He tilted his chin to glance down at you, a small smirk on his lips. "Did I ever tell you I have a dead-things-in-jars collection? Cause I do. And it's the grossest, most wicked thing ever."

You rolled your eyes dramatically. "Oh, my god. You would." You set the small towel aside and reached over the turn off the bathtub faucet. 

He leaned back against the back of the toilet while you used both hands to wring out the larger towel. "I should probably take a picture of this shit before it goes away. Memories, or something. Maybe once it's gone, I can look at it without puking."

"I wouldn't count on it." You said grinning over your shoulder. "You've got a pretty weak gag reflex." He shoved you with his bare foot, and you rocked to the side, laughing. 

"I can suppress it when I need to." He said, giving you a small smirk and waggling his eyebrows. "Wanna see?" 

You felt your cheeks warm. You looked back at your task of wringing out the large towel so it didn't drip everywhere. You chose to ignore, rather than acknowledge, his not-so-subtle innuendo. "Yeah, stand up and stare in the mirror while touching your gills, and don't blow chunks." 

He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall. "Can we please avoid the 'G' word, please?"

"What? Gills?" You stood, wet towel in hand. You stood in front of him, grinning. "Goodness gracious, what great gills you've got."

"John..."

"Gills. Fishy, fishy gills."

"Egbert." He didn't look queasy, just irritated, so you continued.

"Gills, gills, gills, gills, gills, gills." You chanted in the same voice and rhythm as the Bill Nye the Science Guy song.

Before you could reach the end of your song, he grabbed the spray bottle from the counter and sprayed you square in the face. You sputtered, taking a half step back, and gaped at him. His smirk was bordering on a grin.

You glared at him. "Hoe don't do it."

"Bad, Egbert." He sprayed you again. 

You sputtered, wiped your face on your shoulder, and then lunged at him with the towel. You wrapped it around his face and he fell back against the toilet. His hands flailed, continuing to spray you with the bottle, and you tried to hide your face while rubbing this head with the wet towel, messing up his hair. It was the only thing you could think to do, and you knew how anal he was about his hair. You could hear his muffled laughter through the damp towel.

"I'm going to lock you in here and you can just live in the bathtub." You threatened. 

"You wouldn't dare." He suddenly dropped the spray bottle, reached out, and before you really knew what was happening, his hands were gripping your hips as he dragged you forward. You practically fell forward, hands dropping to Dave's shoulder's for support as you landed on his lap. The towel slipped from his head, and that's how you found yourself straddling Dave Strider's lap while he smirked up at you with laughing eyes. Bright red, piercing eyes.

Laughing eyes, set in a handsome face, that was quite frankly way too close for comfort. 

Having a glamour on was something you subconsciously did outside of your home. After several years, it felt like a second skin. Almost like clothes. Something that made you invisible. Something that was comforting, even though you barely paid attention to it. And now, without the glamour, having Dave stare at you like that, you felt... exposed. Vulnerable. And even more so because you knew even if you DID have your glamour on, he would be able to see you. There was no hiding from Dave. 

"You'd miss me too much." He was saying. "And who could blame you?" 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "And why would I miss your ugly ass face?" And then you plastered the towel over his face because his eyes were making you uncomfortable. 

Not an oh-man-his-eyes-are-creepy-as-fuck uncomfortable. But more of an embarrassed uncomfortable. The same kind of uncomfortable you felt when you weren't sure if Dave was asking you out on a date or not.

A date that never happened.

A date that you never found out if it really WAS a date or not. 

Confused feelings about Dave that you had managed to suppress in all the hectic events that had happened since. Confused feelings that were rushing back with Dave's hands on your hips, his legs under yours, and his smug face so close to yours. You needed to cover his face because you knew you couldn't hide. And you weren't used to having to hide your thoughts. You had a feeling Dave could see through more than just your glamour. 

"I'll have you know my ass-face is plump and perfect." He said, voice muffled beneath the towel. 

"Plump is right."

"Hey now."

"Your hair is a mess." And it was. Now damp and sticking up at odd angles, his hair looked like a blond version of yours. Aka, a bird's nest. 

"Who's fault is that?"

"The hair fairies."

He snorted beneath the towel, and his body shook with silent laughter. It vibrated up through your thighs. Your face felt warm. None of this was okay. This wasn't even remotely okay. This was... this wasn't what you were used to. It wasn't what you were planning. These past couple days had been great. Bro time. Nothing weird. Nothing... more. Now you were feeling the more, and you weren't sure you were ready.

And it was REALLY hard to get ahold of your feelings, let alone sort them out, when you were sitting on Dave's lap.

"As much as I love a wet towel over my face, I'd like it even more if it went back to hiding the monstrosity that is my neck." He said, voice muffled. 

"Heh, right, say please." You tried to subtly breathe deep and do your best to get your face under control.

"Please." 

"Good boy." Without really knowing what your expression looked like, but hoping for the best, you removed the towel from his face and busied yourself with wrapping it around his neck. It was thoroughly damp, but not dripping. You wrapped it tight, making sure most of his neck was covered. Some of the black veins that crept up his jawline were still visible, but there wasn't much you could do. "There." You said, tucking in the edges to keep the towel from unraveling. You leaned back, examining your handiwork, and trying to ignore how his fingers curled reflexively tighter around your hips.

"John..." His voice was very soft, and you caught his gaze despite your attempts to avoid it. He was staring at you, expression unguarded. You saw the vulnerability there, the little creases around his eyes that gave away his worry. The subtle way his lips twisted, pursing, relaxing, frowning, relaxing. 

"What...?" Your voice came out soft, like a breathy whisper. You couldn't tell if you sounded scared or desperate. You hated both. 

Dave searched your eyes. His gaze locked with yours, and you couldn't look away. His lips finally stopped moving. They relaxed and parted slightly, and you felt your own do the same in response. You tried to keep your face blank, but a million and one thoughts ran through your head.

What was going on? Why did he pull you onto his lap? What was he going to say? What was HE thinking? Was he going to kiss you? He definitely looked like he was going to kiss you. Did you WANT him to kiss you? Yes... No... Was that movie night intended to be a date? Was that relief you felt. No, it was nausea. But... good nausea or bad? What did you WANT? What did he WANT? Why were neither of you saying anything?

You started to mentally count the seconds. 

One. 

The tip of his tongue poked out to lick his lips, drawing your eyes downward before they snapped back up to his.

Two.

You had to resist the urge to lick your own lips. Now that you were thinking about them, they felt dry as fuck. Dry and chapped. If he WAS going to kiss you, that was definitely NOT how you wanted him to remember it. Dry and chapped. Unpleasant. Gross. You licked your lips. 

Three. 

His eyes finally left yours, flickering down to stare at your mouth. You tried to keep your lips from quivering, holding them completely still. You felt your lips parting slightly, even though you breathed heavily through your nose. Could he hear that? You could definitely hear his breathing. It was no longer ragged and dry, with the towel around his gills, but it had picked up speed. 

Four.

You searched his face. What did he think about your lips? His skin was pale, but with a healthy subtle golden glow. Light freckles dotted his cheeks and his nose. His eyebrows were thick and a shade darker than his hair. His lashes were light and framed those blood-red eyes. His lips were pink. He looked human.

Five.

You once looked similar to him. Perhaps a little darker. It was still the look you gave off with your glamour. But he saw through that. He saw you as you were now. As you really were. Not just pale, white. White porcelain skin with shades of blue instead of pink. You knew your lips were pale, tinged blueish purple. Your cheeks were probably flushed blue. You had the sudden urge to hide your ears. For the first time ever, you felt self-conscious about how you looked as a fae. Did he... did he think it was weird?

Six. 

That was probably why he was staring. You probably looked weird. You sure didn't look human. Human blood was red, not blue. He might have red eyes, but you were the freak here. Your lips probably looked like a corpse's.

Seven.

Was it just you or was he leaning closer? He was definitely leaning closer. It was slow, like a someone approaching a frightened animal. Was that what you looked like? You sure FELT like a deer in the headlights. You froze.

Eight.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it. It roared in your ears and vibrated through your veins. He was closer...closer... your breath hitched. He was going to kiss you. 

Nine. 

Yes... no... Yes... maybe... Your eyes started to flutter closed, waiting...

Ten.

The yellow bathroom light flickered wickedly off the metal of his piercings. Fire above his eye, fire in his ears and nose. But most of all, fire in his lip. Your eyes snapped open, focusing on the little band of yellow silver fire that curved around his lip. Memories of your cheek burning flashed across your mind. The burn on your lip after you saved his life. 

Eleven.

You jerked back. It was sudden, surprising you both. 

His eyes shot up to yours and you stared at him, wide eyed. 

After what felt like a long and tense silence, Dave looked down and mumbled. "Sorry, dude...I just- it was-"

"No!" You cut him off, patting his shoulders with your hands in an awkward attempt to comfort him. "No! It was me, just the, um, you know... metal...burning flesh kinda hurts, so, yeah... Not really something I want to experience again..." You finished lamely, pointing at your own lip. 

Dave stared at you for a moment, and you watched as everything clicked. Then he tossed back his head and laughed, his entire body shaking. You shifted on his lap with the sudden movement, but his hands held you steady. They were warm.

His laughter died down into chuckles, and he leaned forward, putting his forehead on your shoulder. You were glad he kept enough space that his ear didn't touch your cheek or neck. His back shook slightly with the echoes of his laughter as he shifted his head slightly from side to side. 

"Sorry, dude, totally slipped my mind." He mumbled, amused. But you thought you caught a tinge of disappointment in his voice. But also... relief.

You heaved a dramatic sigh and rested your arms on his back. "S'alright, Dave, I suppose I can forgive you this time."

"You're too kind." From the living room, you heard Dave's phone go off. He tensed. "Shit."

"That sounds like some shitty anime music."

"It's Dirk's ringtone."

"Dumb."

"Shut up, Egbert. If you knew my brother, you'd realize how hilariously perfect it is. Barely even ironic." 

The phone continued to ring. "So... are you gonna answer it?"

"And tell him what?"

"You could always try the truth." You suggested with a smile, though his face was still hidden. You patted his back. "Come on, Dave, time to face the music."

He heaved a sigh, and firmly patted your ass, making you jump in surprise. "You're right. Time to tell him his brother is half-fish. Get up, lardass." 

"You put me here." You grumbled, shifting off his lap. 

"Lardass or not, it's still nice." He said, though he sounded distracted and not at all as playful as he did earlier. He didn't look at you as he left the bathroom, running a hand through his hair and messing it up more than fixing it. 

You stood in the bathroom a moment longer, looking at your flushed face in the mirror as you heard him answer his phone. 

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized a little too late that you wished Dave had kissed you. Burning lip ring or not.


	12. Touch

Your name is Jake English, and by golly was your body still sore. 

Three days after your rooftop scuffle with Dirk, you were still feeling the after affects. The scraps on your knees and elbows had scabbed, but itched and occasionally burned like the dickens. Your jaw occasionally locked up when you chewed. The swelling around your eye had gone down, but it was still an unholy shade of faded purple, green, and yellow. And that's not to mention the general muscle ache from the sudden burst of action after several months without it. Plus, you were pretty sure you had a bruised rib. It occasionally hurt when you moved, prodded it, or breathed too deeply. 

But despite the pain and protests from your body, you didn't regret it in the slightest. Dirk seemed to be doing better. "Better" being a relative term. He still moped around the apartment, stared into space, and huffed sighs when he thought you weren't listening. But he was no longer angry. He even gave you a rare smile on occasion. 

For the most part, Dirk just seemed... sad. And worried. Which you supposed he had every right to be. Given the circumstances. 

Yet despite the numerous glances he sent his phone, he barely dared to touch it. And when he did, he would pick it up, fiddle with it, then put it back down with one of those huffed, exasperated sighs. 

This morning, after he repeated his process nearly twelve times before finishing one cup of coffee, you finally confronted him about it and told him to bone on up and call his gosh darned brother. 

Something in your tone must have gotten to him, because he had been out on the balcony with the phone pressed to his ear for nearly an hour. It took nearly all day, but he was finally doing it.

You sat on a barstool with your back to the kitchen island, watching him through the sliding glass doors. In your hand, your phone buzzed, and you glance down to see yet another text from Roxy.

Roxy: anything yet??  
Jake: Not since the last time you asked nearly two minutes ago!  
Roxy: whats he doin?   
Roxy: come on jakey I need a play by play! this is v important family business  
Jake: Hes just... standing there a tad bit desolate  
Jake: Like he has been for nigh an hour  
Jake: He doesn't really move much while on the phone  
Roxy: oh man  
Roxy: that means hes serious  
Roxy: like call 911 my house is on fire and I'm trapped under the crippling weight of my own responsibilities serious  
Roxy: dirk aLWAYS paces or fidgets when hes on the phone  
Roxy: boy cant keep still for shit  
Roxy: especially if hes on the phone  
Roxy: he once designed a blueprint for a robo horse when i was telling him about my day  
Roxy: i mean the conversation went on for an hour p one sided  
Roxy: it was a p busy day ya see  
Roxy: but still boy is efficient  
Roxy: if hes givin dave all his attention u know it must be serious  
Jake: The most serious indeed  
Jake: You didnt see him the other day  
Jake: He nearly broke my ribs  
Jake: And then my face  
Roxy: nah he wouldnt dare touch ur face  
Roxy: he likes it too much  
Jake: Haha very funny roxy  
Jake: Has he got you going on this joke now too?  
Roxy: what joke?  
Jake: the blasted incessant flirting one!  
Jake: Great ceasars ghost that man could prattle on for days about my caboose this and othersuch malarkey!  
Roxy: rite  
Roxy: joke  
Roxy: because why would he acTUALLY find u acTUALLY attractive or anythin  
Jake: Exactly!  
Roxy: jake  
Roxy: jakey boo  
Roxy: jake-a-million  
Roxy: jake-asaurus rex  
Roxy: i think u need ur eyes checked  
Jake: I dont think that's necessary i just recently got new glasses but i dont see what this has to do with anything  
Roxy: sighs into oblivion   
Jake: What the devil fucking dickens are you going on about roxy?  
Roxy: nevermind  
Roxy: back to dirk  
Roxy: u were talking about ur manly man bro fight on the roof?  
Jake: Oh right yes! he was very upset and nearly beat me to hell and back!  
Roxy: u poked the bear jakey poo and the bear poked back  
Jake: Yes well its not so much the fighting that really got to me  
Jake: As the part that came after?  
Roxy: after? oh do tell ;3  
Jake: Put your winks away!  
Jake: After we had worn ourselves out he just laid atop me   
Roxy: oooooh myyyyy  
Roxy: quiet a work out eh? ;) winkwonk  
Jake: No winking or wonking involved! we were both exhausted  
Roxy: i bet you were  
Jake: ANYWHO we stayed like that in silence for a long while  
Jake: And when he got up i realized he had been uh  
Jake: Crying? perhaps  
Roxy: ....  
Roxy: .......  
Roxy: ...........  
Jake: Roxy your prolonged ellipses are not helpful or constructive!  
Roxy: sorry bruh  
Roxy: im just havin a hard time wrappin my mind around that  
Roxy: like ive known dirk for a long time  
Roxy: a LONG time  
Roxy: like our whole lives long time  
Roxy: and i can only remember him crying once  
Roxy: when his big bro died  
Roxy: hes not really one for outward feelings  
Roxy: he kinda just... bottles em all up   
Jake: I dont think i was meant to see it  
Roxy: still   
Roxy: the fact that he did it around you  
Roxy: i think that says somethin  
Roxy: he really must care about u  
Jake: I hope so!  
Jake: I would like to consider him one of my very good friends  
Jake: I havent known him long but I feel we have this connection  
Roxy: yeah i get that  
Roxy: i get that feel with janey  
Roxy: but like jake for realsies  
Roxy: are u ready for my realsies?  
Jake: My body is ready for the realisies  
Jake: Shoot!  
Roxy: keep ur mind open kay?  
Roxy: dirk is more fragile than he likes to let on and like  
Roxy: im sure he feels the same sorta connection  
Roxy: MORE of it even  
Jake: I would never hurt dirk!  
Roxy: i know  
Roxy: not on purpose  
Roxy: just... tread lightly kay? think before ya speak  
Roxy: can you promise me that?  
Jake: I... suppose   
Jake: Though im not quite sure i get what youre getting at  
Roxy: thats okay  
Roxy: maybe someday well have the TALK  
Jake: The TALK?  
Jake: Sounds ominous  
Roxy: the most ominous  
Roxy: about the ominous birds and the bees  
Jake: Oh! somethings happening!  
Roxy: !!!!!  
Roxy: tell me!  
Jake: I think he hung up the phone  
Roxy: whats he doing now?  
Jake: Just... standing there. he hasnt really moved  
Roxy: what about now?  
Jake: Hes just staring out at the sunset  
Roxy: now i think we both know hes not REALLY staring at the sunset  
Jake: Oh right  
Roxy: well go talk to him or somethin  
Roxy: get the dets and report back to me  
Jake: Im not really sure i should disturb him?  
Jake: He might need a moment  
Roxy: hes had all the moments in the world  
Roxy: now get ur ass out there and see whats up!  
Jake: Yes maam!

You set your phone aside, sighing. You weren't really sure if Dirk wanted to be disturbed, but not only had Roxy told you to, your own curiosity was getting the better of you. Dave had been staying with John for three days after being mugged. In some unknown state of distress that was bad enough that he couldn't, or wouldn't, return home, but well enough that Rose and Jade assured Dirk he would be fine. Once you found out Jade was involved, you tried going straight to her for information, but she buffered you away with some mumbo jumbo about it being none of your business, that she could handle it, and that Dave would be fine and Dirk needed you more. 

That last part, at least, you knew was true. Dirk did need you, as much as he wouldn't admit it aloud. He kept finding ways to get you to stay the night instead of going home. Usually by keeping you up late with movies and games until it was too late for you to walk home or even call Jane for a ride. The Strider couch had become your bed. You didn't mind too much. You knew Dirk didn't want to be alone. And given the circumstances, you didn't want to leave him alone. 

Luckily, Roxy had brought you a duffle bag of clothes and toiletries for your extended stay. 

Given how close the two of them were, you found it strange that she hadn't offered to stay herself. As his former caretaker and self-proclaimed life-long best friend, you would have thought she'd have been over here in a heartbeat after the incident. If anything to offer comfort. 

You asked her about this when she brought your things, but she just smiled, winked, and said he needed you more. Everyone seemed to think that Dirk needed you. You weren't sure how much of that was true, but you had to admit, you DID enjoy spending time with the man and getting to know him a little more. 

You didn't really have many friends outside of your family. 

Not until Dirk and Roxy came into your life.

You slid off the stool and went to fix a cup of coffee. While that brewed, you heated water to make some tea for yourself. Dirk might be able to drink coffee at all hours of the day, but you certainly couldn't. You'd stick to some simple earl grey yourself. 

When the coffee finished, you poured it into Dirk's favorite #1 Grandma mug (complete with a pastel picture of kittens), and fixed your tea in YOUR favorite mug (the one with dinosaurs that turned to bones when the mug heated up). With one mug in each hand, you shuffled across the living room, stepping carefully around fallen clothes, puppets, and other such nonsense, to get to the sliding door. You hooked your elbow around the door handle and, with a small grunt of effort, slid it open without spilling a drop. 

"High-ho, Strider!" You said with a grin.

He stood leaning forward, elbows rested on the railing. He didn't turn around when the door opened, but he tilted his head to the side at the sound of your voice. He didn't wear his shades, those had been left inside on the coffee table. And although he turned his head slightly in your direction, his eyes still stared off into the distance. 

"Sup." He grunted in that usual way both he and Dave shared. 

"I brought you something to drink." You said, holding out the mug for him. 

"Coffee?" He asked hopefully, eyebrows quirking up a fraction. His nostrils flared. 

You nodded, then realizing he couldn't see your nod, spoke aloud. "Right-o."

"Black?"

You gave him a wry smile. “Yes, though I’m not sure how you can ingest this. Just the smell of it is enough to burn my nostrils.”

“Okay, for one, Death Wish coffee is the best shit on his planet. For two, you could probably use a nasal hair trim anyway, so you’re welcome.”

Your smile widened. “Whoa nelly, what a zinger.”

He shrugged. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.” 

“You can’t see.”

“So I get to call ‘em however I like.” He reached out to take his coffee, turning his head to glance sidelong in the direction of your outstretched hand. You realized, a little too late perhaps, that he probably couldn’t SEE the offered mug of coffee. With a start, you jerked the mug forward to meet his reaching hand, but the movement was too sudden. The mug met his hand, and hot coffee sloshed out.

You winced and mumbled, “Sorry, mate.”

Dirk didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled one of those small, secret smiles. “No problem, dude.” His fingers wrapped firmly around the mug, brushing and lingering on yours perhaps a few seconds longer than necessary before he took the mug from your grasp. 

You leaned your back against the railing next to him, cradling your mug in both hands while watching him sip his drink. He sipped delicately, then went back to leaning his forearms on the railing. The mug was held with both hands, hovering over the edge. You glanced down at the cement far below. You hoped he wouldn’t drop it. 

“Is this my grandma mug?” He asked, long fingers slowly feeling around the outside of the mug, outlining the pink pastel cats opposite the ‘#1 grandma’ declaration. 

“Of course,” You said with a little pride. “How can you tell?”

He shrugged. “I can feel the decal.” 

“Why is that mug even in your possession? Some sort of preposterous Strider irony?”

He shrugged again, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You could say that. Dave got it for me. Said it looked like something that belonged in Umbridge’s office, and he knows she’s my favorite super villain in the history of villains.”

You huffed indigently. “She’s not a super villain.”

“Have you read the books?”

“Well...no....”

“Read the book and watch the movie and then come back and try to tell me she’s not.”

You stood in silence for several minutes. You sipped your tea, listening to the distant city sounds of engines and car horns. The hum of electricity. Voices and laughs, melded together to form something unintelligible. You still weren’t used to city life, but you supposed it had its own charms. 

“How is he?” You asked, your voice came out so low, that at first you wondered if he had heard it. But of course he had. His hearing was exemplary.

“He’s... fine.” He said, voice even and monotoned. 

“Now, Strider, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re holding back.”

Dirk sighed, and you saw the way his fingers gripped his mug just a little tighter. “He’s... alive. And that’s what matters.”

“Well, we already knew that, didn’t we?”

“He’s... changed. And they don’t know if he’ll be the same again. They’re trying though.”

“I don’t blame him. I think we’d all be changed after going through such an experience.”

“Jake, you don’t understand.” Dirk snapped, cutting you off. He faced forward, head tilted down. He looked like he was staring at the street below, but you knew he didn’t see it. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just him being jumpy or some shit. He’s CHANGED. Like I changed when... when this shit happened.” He waved a hand in front of his face to gesture to his eyes. 

Your eyes widened. “Golly... if it’s... if it’s that serious than shouldn’t he be in a hospital of some sort? Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Rose is a bright gal and Jade certainly has her head on straight, but something that serious should be looked at by professionals-“

“No.” He said shortly and firmly. “No. It’s not that kind of problem.”

“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand....”

“No, you don’t.”

“Dirk...” You reached out a hand, hesitated, and then rested it on his shoulder. You chewed your bottom lip, brow creased in worry. “Help me understand.” 

He didn’t shrug off your touch, like you thought he might. Instead, you got the sense that he leaned into your hand. You waited, but he didn’t say anything. He sipped his coffee and traced the kitten decal with his fingers. You kept your hand on his shoulder, barely daring to drink your tea in case it might disrupt the moment. 

So you waited. And you waited. And you waited as the sun slowly lowered behind you and the wall of the apartment building was cast in shadows and an orange glow. And you waited, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze. And you waited as he put a hand over your hand, fingers overlapping yours as he squeezed back. And you waited, barely daring to breathe as your hands rested together. And you waited, pretending not to notice the way his hand shook ever so slightly.

And you waited until it seemed like he wouldn’t say anything at all. But then he spoke.

“What do you believe in?”

You blinked, eyebrows raising. “Pardon?”

“What do you believe in, Jake? Do you believe in a god? Multiple gods? Ghosts? Spirits? Karma? Chance? Fate?”

“I...” You paused. You had been about to say you didn't rightly believe in anything. And you were going to accuse him of changing the subject, like he had a tendency to do. But you remembered your promise to Roxy. Think before you speak. Keep an open mind. This might just be Dirk's way of coping. The man had a brilliant, if slightly confusing and very frustrating, mind. You had to trust he would make his point eventually. And if he didn't, THEN you would accuse him of changing the subject. 

You pressed your lips together and furrowed your brow in thought. What DID you believe in? “That’s quite the deep question there, Strider. Heh... I... don’t rightly believe in a god, per se. I don’t quite like the idea of some higher being deciding our fates for us. Now fate... fate is an interesting concept, and I can’t say I’m not intrigued by the idea. But perhaps that we have several possible fates... and our choices push us to different paths.” You lifted your mug to your lips, taking several long sips to give you time to think. This wasn’t exactly the conversation you expected. You weren’t really sure WHAT you expected, but it wasn’t this. But Dirk rarely did, or said, anything without a purpose. So you would roll with the punches for now. “As for ghosts... in my travels with my grandma, I can’t say I’ve never felt anything... strange. Whether it was ghosts or spirits or something else or just my imagination, I can’t say. Seeing a ghost would be a mighty fine adventure, but I’m not quite sure I’d like it all that much.” You took your hand away from his shoulder and scratched at the back of your neck, coaxing down the hair that started to stand on end. 

Throughout your travels, you had several experiences of... feeling like you were being watched. It was a rather sinister feeling. You tried to laugh it off. “Not all ghosts are as friendly as our good friend Casper. In fact, there could be those that are merely demons masquerading around as ghosts.”

“You’ve seen too many movies.” His voice was flat, but you could see the beginnings of a smile. 

“There’s never such a thing as TOO many!”

He snorted his disbelief and sipped his coffee. He was silent for long enough that you were prompted to ask, “What do YOU believe in, Strider?” 

He took another sip, cradled his mug between his hands, and tilted his head to the side. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have said it was examining the sunset. “Have you ever had a moment... a moment when you think you see something out of the corner of your eye? Where you’re caught off guard, but in that moment of unawareness, you see something so clearly, that you would swear your life on its existence. But when you turn to look, and put it in the center of your vision, to focus on it, it’s gone. And you look everywhere, but there’s no sign or trace that it ever existed at all. And you’re left feeling uneasy, because in that brief moment, you were certain of something, only to find it missing, with no explanation. So you laugh to yourself, and shrug it off, and convince yourself that it was all in your head, a trick of the light, because the alternative, of accepting that there is something real that you can’t see, is just too unnerving and frightening a concept to accept. Have you ever felt that?”

A shiver ran down your spine, despite your best efforts to suppress it, and you had the sudden urge to look over your shoulder. Hypothetical or not, his words hit close to home. In your days traveling, camping, venturing, there had been many times where you had had that feeling. And you had always brushed it off and laughed with your grandmother. But her laughter had never quite reached her eyes. You remember seeing something close to pity there, and an awareness that frightened you.

“I... can honestly say that I have.” You laughed now, but it sounded thin and shaky, even to you. “But as you’ve said, mate, perhaps I watch too many movies. My grandmother always said I had a very active imagination.”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Imagination, paranoia, or instinct. This is what I believe in.” He stood straight then, and turned to face you. He looked at your face. And though you knew he couldn’t SEE your face, the fact that he found it readily enough was unnerving. “What if the things we see, the things we convince ourselves that we haven’t seen, what if they’re really there? A whole world living alongside ours, but only visible through the corners of our eyes, the weak spot in our vision, where the control of our minds is frail, and the power to bend our perception doesn’t hold.” 

There was a sudden intensity in his voice and in his sightless eyes. A seriousness that chilled you to the bone, yet sparked a fire of curiosity deep within. Fight and flight were warring inside you, but instead you stood still as he took a step toward you. 

“Wouldn’t that be something?” You were proud when your voice didn’t shake, but you felt your hands doing so. You gripped your mug tighter. The pressure of his gaze was suddenly far too intense for your comfort.

“What if the world wasn’t all black and white?” He said, his voice soft but still filled with that same chilling intensity. 

“I don’t-“ You stopped as he reached out a hand. It hovered near your face, but not quite touching. You waited, but he didn’t move. You could feel his fingertips barely brush your cheek. You cleared your throat. “I don’t believe the world IS black and white, mate. There’s all sorts of shades of gray in between.” 

His lips quirked upward at the edges. “Would you say there are... fifty shades?”

You frowned and glared, though you knew he couldn’t see it. He could at least hear the distain in your voice. “No. We will not be going there, thank you very much.” But you WERE thankful for the sudden break in intensity. The joking atmosphere that started to eat away at the tension.

“Fair enough. Strike my reference to that atrocity to both the literary and cinematic realms from the record.” He paused and his smile faded, though his hand still hovered near your cheek. “Would you believe me... if I said this other world existed?”

You laughed, hoping it didn't sound forced. “Now who’s seen too many movies? There are many shades to the world, Strider, but I doubt an invisible world is one of them.”

His mouth twisted into what you had come to recognize as his frustrated frown. “Jake, just...” He stopped and closed his eyes, and when he sighed, you saw him physically relax. He opened his eyes again. “Please, just...” 

He bent down, setting his coffee on the ground. When he stood, both hands reached for your face, and you flinched. He froze. You froze. Several seconds passed, and when you didn’t move, he continued. His fingers found the edges of your glasses with minimal effort, and he gingerly slid them off your face. Your breath hitched. He folded the legs and tucked one into the neck of his shirt. 

“Wha-“

“Humor me, okay?”

You pursed your lips in a small frown. Was this what Roxy had meant about keeping an open mind? At the time, you had felt it was more in reference to Dirk's... playful flirtatious behavior. But perhaps she had meant this... whatever this was. He HAD said you didn't understand, and you didn't. And you HAD asked him to help you understand, and you meant it. “Very well.”

“Look at me.” His hands were up again and hovering at your temples.

“I’m already doing that, Strider.”

“No, I mean, really look at me. In my eyes.”

“... but you can’t...”

He sighed. “Yes, I know I can’t see your eyes. Just humor me and do it.”

“Alrighty then.”

“Are you staring into my eyes?”

“Yes.” At this distance, you could nearly count this freckles. His lashes were light and delicate. Pale sunbursts to frame his sunset eyes. You held your breath, and very much hoped he couldn’t tell. He stared back. His eyes flicked around in small movements, like he was following something, but perhaps it was just the restlessness of a blind eye. “Strider, what are you-?”

“I don’t know. Now shut it.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw his fingers twitch. Then he was touching you. His finger tips were slightly chilled from the air, but his touch was warm. Comforting. It was the barest of touches. Every finger tip resting delicately on your temples, your cheek. 

“I don’t under-“

Lightning shot through your head. It tore through your brain like wildfire, burning the back of your eyes.

You felt, rather than heard, yourself scream. It tore from your throat as the fire set your spine aflame. You felt your throat constrict and vibrate with the scream, but your ears just heard the rush and ring of pain. 

Squeezing your eyes shut against it, you shoved Dirk away and stumbled backwards. The pain was gone before you even hit the ground. Which unfortunately meant you felt it when your derrière met the pavement. You remembered too late that you had been holding a nearly full cup of tea, and when you opened your eyes, you found the mug still clutched in one hand, but the contents of it spilled all down your front. The pain was gone. There was only a vague ache behind your eyes and a quiet ringing in your ears, and even those were fading. Had you... Had you imaged it?

You looked up at Dirk. His hands still hovered in the air, his expression blank with shock. His freckles stood out in sharp contrast.

“W-what...” Your voice shook. You cleared your throat. “What happened?”

His fingers curled into fists. “You... screamed?”

You gaped at him. Of course you had screamed! “That’s because it hurt like the devil fucking dickens! What in the blue blazes was that?”

Dirk’s hands dropped to his side. He frowned. He looked... frustrated. “I... don’t know.” His head tilted down and to the side, hiding much of his expression from you. He looked... upset? He had no right to be! YOU were the one who just got... got zapped! “What did it feel like?” He finally asked, his voice so soft you could barely hear him.

“It felt like...” What HAD it felt like? It was so brief, so sudden, and the memory of it was fading quickly. “Pain.” That was most of what you remembered. “Like a shock. Lightning through my head.” The back of your eyes still pulsed with a dull ache. 

“Static electricity, maybe?” He bent and held out a hand to you.

You eyed it suspiciously. “Static electricity? That was one doosey of a zinger, and you expect me to believe it was a bit of static shock?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a better explanation?”

“No, but...” 

“Look, I can honestly tell you I don’t know what happened. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright... but you better keep me in the loop, Strider.” You eyed his hand a moment longer before taking it. You held your breath, bracing yourself, but no pain came. It was just a hand. You sighed with relief. 

His lips quirked as he pulled you to your feet. “Consider yourself lassoed.”

You looked down at yourself, and at good ol’ earl grey soaking you through to the skin. “I... do believe I should change.” He cocked his head to the side, questioning. You chuckled sheepishly. “In my surprise, I seem to have spilt my tea.”

“Ah. Well. You know where the bathroom is.” He bent down to pick up his coffee and reached for the door handle, sliding it open. He stood aside and motioned for you to go in first. 

The hot tea had cooled, leaving you with the rather unpleasant feeling of wet clothes. The front of your shirt and pants were soaked, and the chilled material clung to your skin. You made a face, walking stiffly through the apartment. Dirk followed you into the kitchen. You set your empty mug in the sink, and he mumbled something you didn’t quite hear.

“What was that, mate?”

“Did it hurt?” 

You turned to look at him. He was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, head bent and eyes fixed on his coffee mug. 

You sighed, scratching the back of your neck. The movement shifted the wet fabric on your stomach and you cringed. “I see no reason to lie to you, mate. Yes, it did hurt. Like the dickens. But it was over quickly, and it honestly doesn’t hurt anymore.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything. “And you’re sure you don’t know what that was?”

He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Not a clue.”

“Alright, well... I’ll go clean myself up.” You weren’t sure how much you believed him, but you didn’t have a clue to what it could have possibly been either. So you let it slide.

You hobbled out of the kitchen, grateful that he couldn’t see your ridiculous walk. In the bathroom, you stripped off your wet clothes, deciding you might as well take a shower while you were at it. It was then that something caught your eye.

A flash of green. A flash of shimmering gold. In the mirror, out of the corner of your eye. As soon as you noticed it, your head snapped up. But it was gone. You eyed yourself in the mirror. Nothing looked different. Just your normal reflection. You watched as your lips twisted into a frown and your thick brows furrowed. You leaned in close, poking and prodding at your skin, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Thinking about what Dirk had said, you turned your head, trying to get a glimpse of yourself out of the corner of your eye. But there was nothing but you to be seen. 

You shook your head and laughed, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine. “Don’t let the man’s superstitions get to you, old boy!” You said, giving yourself double pistols and a wink in the mirror. Dirk’s strangeness was just making you paranoid. That had to be it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Your name is Dirk Strider, and you had no fucking clue what you were doing. 

You sat at the kitchen island, your coffee growing cold as you stared at your hands. They were outstretched in front of you, outlined in your own wispy amber aura. You spread your fingers wide, turned your hands over, curled them into fists, stretched them out again. 

What had you done, and why had it hurt Jake?

How the fuck were you supposed to “wake” him if just the act of trying caused him enough pain to screech like a fucking banshee and rip himself away from you? His scream still echoed in your ears. 

What the fuck had you done? 

With the news of your little brother growing fucking gills due to some bullshit water horse hex, and his growing feelings for a certain wind sprite who saved his ass from said crazy water horse, and your cousin working together with said wind sprite’s half-dog-half-witch sister-cousin-relation to cure your little brother of the aforementioned bullshit hex... faeries and their bullshit were forefront on your mind. 

So you had thought, why the hell not? Jake was right there. You were pretty damn certain he was this “page” you were supposed to wake up. The rest of your family was being dragged into this shitstorm of a prophecy, despite your efforts to stay the hell away from fae business, so why not you? If you wanted to be with Jake, and you sure as hell wanted to at least try, you should probably do your part in this destiny thing. You were about ninety percent sure “waking” Jake had to do with waking him the hell up to his faerie heritage. The problem was how. The guy had a glamour on him thicker than his own head. 

You were in that “why the hell not” mindset, so you had tried whatever had felt natural. 

You had stared into his aura, seeing the green beneath, the gold swirling film overtop it. You were fairly certain that the gold was the aura of the glamour. Fairly certain had been enough for you to wing it. You had cradled his face in your hands. Your heart had been beating so fast. It wasn’t often you got to touch Jake. In your world, it was easy to forget someone had a physical presence. Living creatures were just fractions of light, their aura and souls bared to you, but little else. They didn't seem solid. Touching him. Feeling him. It had reminded you for that moment just how real he was. His heartbeat had matched your own. You could feel it pulsing in his temple.

You had tried to focus on the shimmering gold swirls in his aura. Tried to mentally separate that from the deep green beneath. You reached for it with your mind, with your fingers, tried to pull. Glamour was like a second skin faeries wore. You saw it all the time. Whether it was glamour to disguise or glamour to stay out of sight: it was a shield. A coating. A shimmer around their beings. Only when the glamour was dropped completely did a faeries aura shine true. So you tried to... to pull the shimmer away from Jake. Help him shed his skin. Peel back the coating that dampened his aura. And for a brief moment, you had felt it budge. You had felt a tug, seen it flicker.

Then he had started screaming and pulled away like you had burned him, and you had lost both the physical and mental connection. 

You had tried to wake the page, and you had failed. 

You had thought you were following your instincts, and instead you had fucked up. You hurt him. You weren’t worthy of the title prince. Prince was just some bullshit someone sewed onto a tapestry and wrote down in a book. It was vague, and it was wrong. You were wrong. You might have been the prince once, but you weren’t anymore. What would happen to your family if you fucked up the prophecy?

Did this mean you couldn't trust your instincts?

Your hands curled into fists, your nails digging and cutting into your palms. You gritted your teeth and pressed your fists into your eyes. 

Your shit, shit eyes. 

You still remembered how they burned when you lost your sight. The pain that ran deep, tore at your skull, ripped down your spine, ignited each and every nerve in your body. You had lost consciousness, and you woke up to darkness.

You had sacrificed your eyes to protect your brother.

What if you had done all that, just to fail now?

What if he was doomed? What if Roxy and Rose were doomed? Doomed to fail because you had failed? All because you couldn’t wake the goddamn page?

Fuck the page. 

You wanted to fuck the page.

“Dirk?” His voice cut through your haze of self-loathing, muffled by the sound of a running shower and a closed door. “Dirk, can you hear me?”

You sighed, removing your fists from your eye sockets and sliding off the stool. You dragged your feet over to the bathroom. “Yes, I can hear you. What do you want? Someone to scrub your back?”

“No! But I seem to have...” You could hear his embarrassed laughter. “I seem to have forgotten to grab a towel and a change of clothes. Could you perhaps be a sport and leave them outside the door?”

Despite yourself, you felt your lips quirk into a small smile. “Sure thing, sweet cheeks.” 

You heard him scoff and start to say something, but you walked away and his words were lost and muffled. You remembered his bag being next to the couch, and you found it readily enough. When you had gathered clothes and a towel, you headed back to the bathroom. You jiggled the lock to affirm that it was indeed locked before reaching to the top of the doorframe. The key rested up there. It was one of those long straight keys that just poked into the door handle to unlock it from the other side. The apartment came with several, and they all rested above the doors. Not that you ever used them. For the most part you and Dave gave each other privacy. Roxy used them to barge into your rooms or your office more often than not. 

Shifting the clothing and towel into the crook of your arm, you found the hole in the doorknob and pushed in the key. A little pressure to depress the mechanism, and you turned the doorknob and swung the door open. You felt the steam, the air warm and moist. 

This was Dave’s bathroom, which you were less familiar with than your own, but you did at least know the layout. And you also knew that his shower, like yours, was more or less a glass box with a door. The glass would probably be foggy, and Jake wouldn’t be wearing his glasses, but he should still be able to see if you were standing in the bathroom. So the fact that he hadn’t said anything yet led you to believe he hadn’t noticed you come in. So you decided to announce your presence. The opportunity was too much to pass up, and perhaps he could distract you.

“Are you sure you don’t need help washing your back?”

“S-STRIDER!” He yelped, and you heard the sound of wet flesh slap against a wall and the clatter of bottles being knocked over. 

You smirked, satisfied. “I’ll take that as a no?”

“Jimminey- for christ’s sake- devil fucking- STRIDER!”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“What in the blue blazes do you think you’re doing?”

“You asked if I could get you a towel and a change of clothes.” You said innocently, nodding at the bundle you held. “Can’t a man do another man a favor without the first man getting his panties in a bunch?” 

“I asked if you could leave them outside the door!”

“Did you? I don’t recall. Either way, I’m already here.” 

"How did you even weasel your way in here? I locked the door!"

You lifted the straight key for him to see, then set it on the counter. "There are keys over all the doors." You tilted your head to the side. You could see him standing there, though his aura was blurred a little by the glass of the shower. He was fidgeting and... covering himself. You did your very best to hide your smile and keep a straight face. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“You could say that! I’m bathing, Strider! You don’t just walk in on a man while he’s in his birthday suit!” You kept your face carefully blank, though it was a struggle. He kept fidgeting under your gaze. “Stop staring! Have you any sense of decency?!”

“Jake...”

He had both hands over his nether regions, his back pressed to the shower wall. “What?” His flustered voice sent a shiver right down to your own nether regions, and you wished you could see him. What you could see was exactly the same as you always saw. Just his shape. His outline. No details about what physically made him, him. You had the sudden urge to explore. To use your hands to see those details. To remind yourself that he was, indeed, real.

You wanted the page, in more ways than one.

“Did you forget that I’m blind?” You asked flatly.

“I... I di- oh for fucks sake.” He sputtered. You saw him physically deflate, then he threw back his head and laughed. “Oh blimey! I’m sorry, mate! You just caught me off guard and, well, bare. I wasn’t thinking.”

You smirked. “I suppose that’s still a no on the back washing offer?”

“Just drop off your load and get out of here!”

You raised both eyebrows, your smirk widening. “My load, eh?” You dropped the towel and clothes on the floor and reached for the button of your jeans. “Well, if you insist.” 

“S-Strider!” There was that flustered note again. You reveled in it. 

“Yes?”

“Stop right there!”

“Fine, fine!” You said, holding your hands up in defeat.

“Just...” He sighed. “I’m done in here anyway. Just... hand me the towel. And no funny business!” You bent to pick up the towel as he turned the water off, and held it out as the shower door opened. “Thanks.” He mumbled grudgingly, but he wasn’t telling you to get out anymore. 

You sat on the closed toilet lid and leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest. You watched as he dried off. It was mildly amusing, since you couldn’t actually see the towel in his hands, but your amusement was overshadowed with... other thoughts. Thoughts like, how did he actually look? Roxy had described his face, but she wasn’t exactly the best with descriptions. A “bomb ass face with a strong af chin and a smile to make you melt” wasn’t much to go on when actually trying to decipher the details of one’s appearance. 

And what about his body? You had felt it a couple times, but there was only so much information you could gather from being thrown over his shoulder, laying collapsed on top of him trying not to let loose your emotions, or when throwing punches. There was so much you hadn’t realized you learned through visual aesthetics. So much you wanted to know. Did he have freckles? Did his arms have little moles here and there? What tone was his skin? Roxy had said his eyes were green, but what shade? Did they match his aura? You would never know first hand. 

If only you had met him before you lost your sight. 

You wanted to map his body. To let your hands roam while your mind shaped him, figured him out. You wanted to know him. You wanted to know what made him tick. You wanted to hear what sounds he made while dreaming. You wanted to hear what sounds he made in bed. You wanted to feel his laughter vibrate in his chest. 

You wanted him, and you weren’t entirely sure he would want you back.

Especially not if in the process of “waking” him, you hurt him. You had barely touched his glamour, and he had reacted as if you had set him on fire. What if you hadn’t fucked up? What if you had... what if you had done exactly what you were supposed to? And what if you tore off his glamour completely? How much would it hurt him? Would he... survive? Would he forgive you? Could he bear to touch you, let alone care for you, after that? Would he flinch at your touch? You had noticed the way he hesitated to take your hand.

“I must admit, mate, I know you can’t see but it’s still a little... unsettling when you stare like that.” He laughed nervously, wrapping the towel around his waist. 

You smirked, pushing away your thoughts for the moment. “Afraid I’ll see what you’re packing, English?” 

“For lack of better words, yes. A man is entitled to his privacy and that includes his, um, private parts.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Well lucky for you, you’ve got all the privacy in the world. Your little privateer is safe from my prying eyes.” For the most part. 

“Good, but, um... Would you mind giving me some privacy? Despite your blindness, I’d really rather not, um... use the bathroom while you’re in here.”

“You are using the bathroom.”

He grunted a sigh, running a hand through his hair. How long was his hair? What color was it? How was it cut? Did it stick up straight when he did that, or did it fall back into place? “You know what I mean, Strider.”

“Right, yeah. You gotta wee and you’d rather me not be around.” You stood and headed for the door, resisting the urge to slap his ass as you passed. But you paused in the doorway, one hand on the frame. “Hey, Jake?”

“What is it now, Strider? The matter is getting urgent.”

“I just... wanted to say I’m sorry. For earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t really know what happened, but regardless, I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I’m sorry.” 

There was a pause, and then he sighed. “It’s alright, mate. I know you didn’t mean for... whatever happened, to happen. And I’m fine. No lasting damage.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course. I’m right as rain. Sturdy as an ox. See?” A hand on your shoulder gently spun you around. Much to your surprise, he took your hands in his and pressed them to his face. His cheeks were warm from the shower, and still a little damp. You felt your chest tighten, and you closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see his aura, least you accidentally tug on his glamour again. Instead you focused on the sensation of him beneath your hands. 

You felt his wet hair on your fingertips and knuckles. You felt his stubble prickle your palms. You moved your thumbs across his cheek bones and felt the uneven surface of his skin. Pores, pimples, facial hair, a smoother bump that you thought might be a mole. You were holding your breath, memorizing every detail you could find. His stubble was bare minimum and spotty. More like sandpaper against your palms. 

You tried to keep your face blank, but you were so focused on his, that you could have been making any sort of expression and you wouldn’t have known. Or cared. His cheeks pushed up as he smiled. 

“See? I’m alright. No need to worry.”

“Not so far as I can tell.” You mumbled, fingertips exploring his temples, his brow. He had thick eyebrows. His lashes tickled the pads of your thumbs. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He said, and you could hear the laughter in his voice. You reveled in how his face moved as he spoke. 

You exhaled sharply in a half-laugh. “Well when your world is darkness, it’s easy to forget that people actually physically exist. You might as well be a ghost.”

“Well rest assured that I am here, in the flesh, and I’m okay.”

You smirked. "Good to know." You gently patted his cheeks.

He put his hands on yours, and you felt his smile fade. "One thing I don't quite understand, Strider... How does... whatever happened, how was that supposed to help me understand the predicament with your brother?"

Your smirk faded. "I'm not sure you're ready to hear the answer to that, English." You weren't ready to tell him. You wanted to have at least a few more days of blissful ignorance with him before risking his distrust and hatred. 

You felt the tension of his frown. "You'll tell me eventually, though, won't you?" 

You opened your eyes and his aura was so close. You could see the gold swirls dancing in front of you, beneath your fingers, taunting you. Reminding you that you had failed. Reminding you what you still had to do. You had the sudden urge to take a firm hold of the glamour and rip. To tear it away like a bandaid and damn the consequences. You simultaneously had the urge to push him against the wall and claim him. To find out what his lips tasted like. To really feel him. To feel all of him with all of you. To hold him tight so he couldn't push you away. To say a big "fuck you" to the prophecy and just fuck the page. He was only wearing a towel after all... 

You quickly pulled back your hands before either urge, or both, could take root. “Eventually.”

He hadn’t seemed to notice your sudden discomfort. “Good. Now, may I pee in peace?” 

You forced a smirk. “Do what you gotta do, English.” And you turned on your heel and left, before you did something you regretted. But not before noticing him turn to face the mirror. You lingered for a second, watching the way he leaned forward to see himself closer. Then you closed the door behind you.


End file.
